


I Was Alone So Long I Didn't Even Know That I Was Lonely

by CelestialForests



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Never watched the show, POV Blake Belladonna, Slow Burn, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 52,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28867419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialForests/pseuds/CelestialForests
Summary: It had started with two text messages, appearing as if by magic on Blake’s phone one morning.8:00 AM - Hi Blake, this is Weiss.8:00 AM - I’m getting married in a month and a half, and I’d like you to be my maid of honor.~ ~ ~ ~ ~After four years of no contact with Ruby, Weiss, or Yang, can Blake handle being in the wedding party? Can she handle seeing Yang again, after everything that's happened?
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee
Comments: 22
Kudos: 145





	1. 41 Days B.W. (Before Wedding)

_41 Days B.W. (Before Wedding)_

It had started with two text messages, appearing as if by magic on Blake’s phone one morning.  
  
 _8:00 AM - Hi Blake, this is Weiss._ _  
_ _8:00 AM - I’m getting married in a month and a half, and I’d like you to be my maid of honor._   
  
Blake had stared at her phone for fifteen minutes, silent and unmoving, before calling into her job and claiming she was dealing with a personal emergency (not _necessarily_ untrue), and couldn’t come in today. She worked at that cafe six days a week, shifts that _technically_ would include overtime if she recorded her hours ‘correctly’, which she didn’t, because the cafe owner couldn’t afford to pay her overtime. But today was a Tuesday, it would be slow, and they’d just hired that other kid, what was his name (Jeff?), and he could handle the front of house workload without her.   
  
She’d hung up the call, and re-opened the new text conversation. No new texts had appeared, no explanation as to how Weiss had sent her these two texts, after three years without any contact. Or at least, no contact from Blake back to Weiss.   
  
Blake decided that would be a place to start.   
  


_How do you have this number - 8:37 AM_

_8:38 AM - I hired a private investigator. You changed from your old number._

_8:39 AM - I hope that wasn’t overstepping a boundary, but I needed to know you were safe, plus I wanted to have a way to contact you._ _  
_ _8:39 AM - In case I needed to._ _  
_ _8:40 AM - Like, for example, to ask you to be my maid of honor._

Blake groaned softly, rubbing a hand on her forehead. It was like no time at all had passed since university. Weiss was still the rich kid living in a different world than everyone else.  
  
 _8:41 AM - They didn’t take any pictures, if that’s what you’re worried about._

_You’re a real piece of work, Weiss. - 8:42 AM_

_If you know where I live, then you know I don’t even live in Vale anymore. - 8:43 AM_

_Plus, even if I could afford a boat ride there, I have an apartment to pay for. - 8:44 AM_

_I have a job, I have other bills, I have responsibilities. - 8:45 AM_

In retrospect, Blake should have known better than to complain about money issues. She realized this when she heard a knock at her door. Jolting slightly on her couch, Blake forced her breathing to calm down - Adam was still in prison, there was _no world_ in which he was knocking at her door.   
  
Which meant-   
  
_Knock knock knock_ .   
  
“No fucking way.” Blake muttered under her breath, standing and crossing the room to her front door. It simply wasn’t possible. There was absolutely no way that Weiss Schnee, billionaire heiress, CEO, and former collegiate roommate of Blake’s, was standing outside of her apartment on Azure Island, at not even nine in the morning on a Tuesday. No chance. Zero. Blake opened the door.   
  
“Oh good, I didn’t want to knock again, those kids playing outside were giving me weird looks. Don’t you ever have people over?” Weiss Schnee, billionaire heiress, CEO, looking as stunning as always with a large braid of white hair, swept into Blake’s apartment, removing driving gloves and sunglasses as she did so. These went into her purse, which, out of her entire outfit, looked to be the most expensive part. Not outrageously so - Weiss was never flamboyant about her wealth, never wore name brands or ostentatious jewelry - but Blake could tell the quality of the material from across the room. Belatedly, she closed her front door, still staring at Weiss.   
  
Weiss, who was now standing in her kitchenette, alternating between looking skeptically around the apartment, and expectantly at Blake herself.   
  
“Well?” Weiss said, clearly expecting some response from Blake.   
  
Blake frowned, blinked a couple of times. “I, uh… what?”

Weiss let out an exasperated sigh, exactly the same one as Blake remembered hearing years ago, when they had been integral parts of each other’s lives. With an eye roll, Weiss set her purse on Blake’s small dining table, and sat down on the edge of one of Blake’s two chairs.

“You live here, not in Vale; I have a private jet, and I’m in Atlas now anyway. You have bills; I have money. You have a job; I’ve contacted a professional caterer and, by offering more than her usual rate, she’s agreed to work your job for a month or until _Randall’s -_ ” she said the name of Blake’s place of work with another eye roll, for emphasis, “- can hire someone new. And before you argue that they can’t afford to hire anyone else, I looked into their reviews, and it seemed like a suitable investment, so I sent over an offer to buy stock in it on the flight here. They’ll have plenty of capital to invest into their workforce, they will survive just fine without you.” She crossed one leg over the other, and rested her hands almost daintily on her knee. Almost daintily, except for the intensity in her gaze as she met Blake’s eyes. 

Blake blinked a few times, overwhelmed by the amount of information Weiss had dumped in her lap. Rather heavily, she sat down on the arm of her couch, facing Weiss. “You’re serious. You actually want me to be your maid of honor. After-”

  
Weiss cut her off by clearing her throat, and rising to her feet. “You were there for me in what may have been the hardest time in my life. And I don’t mean when my dad finally got arrested…” The white-haired girl looked suddenly nervous, her eyes flitting away from Blake’s and down to her feet, her arms crossing in front of her body. “Without you, without your friendship, I don’t know if I would’ve ever stopped being that awful girl I was when we first met. I would still be treating everyone like they didn’t matter, I wouldn’t know how to make meaningful connections with people… Blake without your support I don’t know if I would have ever come out as gay.”   
  
Blake smiled softly at the memories; Weiss had been a handful when they had been assigned as roommates their freshman year. Obsessed with appearances, and status, and what people thought, and unwilling to even _consider_ the thought that her father might, in fact, be a huge asshole who had given her a skewed worldview. They had some truly awful shouting matches that first semester, and then… And then Weiss had come back to their dorm room one night, brow furrowed and obviously worrying over something. Blake had a bisexual flag on her half of the room (the source of one of their many shouting matches), and so when Weiss had asked, hesitantly, in a small voice, how Blake knew she was bi, Blake had been surprised. But Weiss had seemed so distraught that Blake had taken it seriously, had responded with a condensed version of her journey to discovering her sexuality.   
  
That had turned into a night full of tears (from Weiss), more questions (from Weiss and, gently, from Blake), and eventually the realization (again from Weiss) that her father was wrong about a great many things. After that, the shouting matches had stopped, and Weiss and Blake had become fast friends. Blake had even brought her to Beacon’s LGBTQ+ meetings, and they’d-   
  
“So?” Blake looked up at Weiss’ voice breaking the silence in her apartment. She’d been lost to the past there, briefly, and when she focused back on the present, she realized how anxious Weiss had become. Gone was the intense gaze, gone was the fidgeting; Weiss was sitting again, arms still crossed over her chest, an unsure look in her eyes. When Blake met her eyes, Weiss continued.   
“I know we haven’t talked in three years, and I _know_ that surveillance isn’t exactly the usual way friends keep in touch, but I worry about you, and… And there’s really no one else I want to be my maid of honor. I don’t talk to anyone from my family, not _really_ , and I’ve got other friends, but there’s no one like you. No one I _trust_ like you.”   
  
And there it was, Weiss’ secret weapon; many people had a pout, or a sad puppy-dog eye look, but Blake knew they had nothing on Weiss. It was moments like this when Blake was reminded how small the girl was, how alone she must often feel in the world. She’d started running an international corporation at age 22, thrust against her will into the limelight of rich tech startups, and she’d excelled by perfecting an impassive mask that few ever got to see behind. But here, in Blake’s apartment, she was the same unsure girl she had been all those years ago, asking what it felt like to have a crush.   
  
Blake may have made some… choices in her life, but she was no monster. If Weiss was willing to put the past behind her, if she still wanted Blake to be in her life, if she’d flown half-way around the world and preemptively planned fixes for any issues Blake might have with uprooting her life for a month and some change, who was Blake to say no?   
  
Besides, it’d been… well, it’d been about four years since she’d taken any meaningful length of time off. She could use a break.   
  
“Weiss, I would be honored.” Before the words were finished coming out of her mouth, the smaller girl was out of her chair, rushing across the room to wrap her arms around Blake’s body. Blake laughed as she hugged Weiss back. As quickly as it had happened, Weiss was finished with her outburst of emotion and pulling back, a slight blush on her cheeks. She had never been one for showcasing her affection, or for physical contact. Blake chuckled, “I missed you too, Weiss.” as the white-haired girl - no, white-haired woman now - stepped away.   
  
Weiss gave her another smile, a smaller, genuine one. “I missed you a ton Blake. God, we have so much to catch up on.”


	2. 40 Days B.W.

_ 40 Days B.W. _

  
  


It was a testament to how  _ little _ Weiss had changed that she managed to convince Blake to fly to Atlas on her jet that same morning. Some speech about a ‘meeting tomorrow’, and ‘the time change’, and how if Blake was going to take a vacation she might as well start now, and quicker than you could say ‘private jet’ three times Blake and Weiss were flying over the ocean, refreshments in hand (“Orange juice is a good way to start your day!”), and conversation steadily flowing. Weiss seemed to have remembered that Blake disliked flying; the plane’s seating area was overflowing with soft blankets, and big pillows, the juice was delicious and refreshing, and by keeping up a constant stream of stories about the past years of her life, Weiss successfully distracted Blake from hyperventilating about the fact that they were  _ suspended in the air over a seemingly endless expanse of water _ .   
  
Weiss was lucky Blake felt guilty for leaving, or she would’ve made the heiress charter a boat. 

The stories Weiss told were varied; boring galas, advancements in the Schnee Co. tech division, philanthropic efforts she’d funded around the globe (which included, of course, trips to the various tourist destinations at each location), grumpy old men on various boards… It seemed like Weiss had flourished in the past half-decade. Part of Blake felt like she should share her own stories, and she did share some; but part of her was ashamed by how little she’d done over the past four and a half years, felt like she didn’t have any stories to share. Twenty-seven, and working full time in food service. Not exactly comparable to running the world’s most profitable company,  _ after _ redeeming said company’s reputation from an election-fixing scandal perpetrated by one’s own father.   
  
But Blake did have a few stories to share; a karaoke night with coworkers turned into a drunken food fight, a ridiculously bad first date that ended in tears (not Blake’s), the magic of a small town covered in snow during the winter. Weiss either was, or appeared interested in all her stories, asking questions and laughing at appropriate points. There was a brief moment of awkwardness when Weiss had asked if Blake wanted to bring anyone as a plus one - Blake declined. There wasn't anyone she was that close to, not anymore.

And when the conversation lulled, Weiss revealed she’d brought snacks, and the newest romance novel by Forest Halvern, an author Blake would  _ vehemently _ deny reading. After reading, and a small nap, Blake was woken by Weiss saying she needed to buckle up, they were coming in for a landing.   
  
Looking out of the cabin windows, Blake realized Weiss had been right. It was pitch black out, and her phone informed her that, here, it was after ten at night. With a full-body stretch, and a yawn that lasted maybe ten full seconds, Blake grabbed her hastily packed suitcase and backpack, and followed Weiss off the tarmac towards a waiting limousine. As they settled into the car, Weiss put on some soft music, trying in vain to hide her yawns.   
  
“Why didn’t you sleep on the plane Weiss? There was plenty of time for at least a cat nap...”   
  
Weiss rolled her eyes. “If I slept on the plane I’d just be more jetlagged. I left to come see you this morning, and even though it’s mostly sitting something about air travel is just exhausting. Plus, I brought paperwork to do on the trip too. I want to actually take time off before  _ and _ after the wedding, which means a great deal of planning ahead.”   
  
Blake chuckled. It was typical Weiss behaviour to be working at any opportunity; Blake remembered numerous occasions of returning to their shared dorm room to find the pale girl sleeping with her head resting on her notes, having literally worked until she passed out from exhaustion. 

In the limo, Weiss rubbed at the bridge of her nose, fighting back another yawn. “Luckily, we finished the wedding planning  _ months  _ ago now; roping you in was the last thing I had to accomplish, and after the meeting tomorrow I’ll finally be on vacation.”    
  
Blake’s nose twitched slightly, and her brow furrowed. It’d been nagging her at the back of her mind for the entire trip so far, but, after the initial maid of honor question and acceptance, Weiss hadn’t spoken at all about plans for the ceremony. That oblique reference to her  fiancé  was the closest she’d come to speaking about her all day.

Of course, that was far from the only topic they had avoided, but as they turned onto the drive in front of Weiss Manor, Blake figured it was time to at least learn  _ something _ about the woman she was about to meet. Turning sideways in her seat, she focused her full attention on Weiss.   
  
“Speaking of wedding planning, how did all that go? I assume you were the one who planned most of it? Or did you end up finding someone even  _ more _ anal retentive than you?”   
  
Weiss laughed, swatting at Blake’s arm. “Shut up, you  _ know  _ I hate that phrase… And no, I did basically all of the planning. We, uh,” Weiss glanced down and to the left, seemingly a bit nervous, and then recovered. “We planned bits of it together, like the location, and the time of year. Big stuff like that. But all the logistics were squarely on my plate. She’s much more… spontaneous than I am. If it were up to her I think we might’ve just gone down to the courthouse and filled out the paperwork the night I proposed.”   
  
“You were the one who proposed? Weiss, I didn’t think you had it in you.” Blake smiled, trying to imagine Weiss down on one knee, in a fancy restaurant somewhere. “So it’s true what they say, opposites really do attract.”   
  
Smiling softly, Weiss nodded. “For us that’s definitely true.” It seemed like she wanted to say something more, but the car pulled to a stop, and Weiss quickly brought her eyes back up to Blake’s. She grabbed Blake’s hands in hers, and her face became serious. “Blake, I know I already asked you a huge favor in being my maid of honor, and I’m so happy you said yes, but can you promise one thing?”   
  
Tightening her hands around Weiss’, Blake nodded, slightly confused. “Of course Weiss, it’s your wedding. I don’t want to ruin it.”   
  
Weiss’ eyes grew watery, and Blake could see her jaw clench slightly. With a deep breath, Weiss gave her request. “Don’t run away. At least not until after the wedding.”   
  
Blake flinched, her mouth twisting into a grimace. She’d been expecting something like this, at some point, but not so soon, and not so blunt. She dropped her eyes from Weiss’ gaze, looking at the rose bushes that decorated the front of the manor. Her grip may have loosened slightly, but Weiss tightened hers.   
  
“Please Blake. I’m not upset at you for leaving, I’m truly not. You were going through… a lot. You did what you had to to take care of yourself, I get that. But look… I haven’t asked you for anything, even to keep in touch, even after… even after the phone call. So, just for the wedding, so I can have one less thing to be stressed about…”   
  
Without looking, she knew Weiss was giving her the sad eyes look again. Blake took a deep breath, in through her nose and out, shakily, through her mouth. She tried her best to not think about that phone call, these days.  _ Don’t cry on Weiss’ front step. _   
  
“...I promise, Weiss. I’m here, for you and for the wedding. You can count on me.” Blake looked up at the night sky, trying to keep from crying.  _ It’s just jetlag _ .   
  
Weiss pulled her in for a hug, her second (!) of the day. One more, and they’d have hugged more today than in the entirety of their freshman and sophomore years put together. Pulling apart, Blake was met with a radiant grin from Weiss.   
  
“Thank you Blake. Truly. Ok c’mon, let’s get inside, and then tomorrow after my meeting I’ll fill you in on the plan for the lead-up to the wedding, and we can work out getting your dress tailored…”    
  
Blake smiled, letting Weiss’ speech wash over her. Of course she’d already bought a dress for Blake, this was Weiss; she had a plan for everything. As they walked inside the manor, Blake was struck by how homey it all looked; it was a mansion, yes, but it was full of dark wood, and cushy carpets, and smelled pleasantly of old books and lemon cleaning agent; old books, lemon cleaning agent, and freshly brewed tea. Blake frowned, looking at the clock. It was almost eleven.   
  
“Weiss, is someone else here?”   
  
Weiss waved her hand dismissively, continuing towards the main staircase. “No, it’s just us. My  fiancé  is at a retreat until tomorrow night, and-”   
  
There was a shattering sound as a previously full mug of tea fell to the ground. The light from the kitchen outlined a woman, taller than Weiss, standing in the doorway, a look of absolute shock on her face.   
  
“Ho-ly  _ shit _ .” Ruby Rose said, left hand still posed as if she thought she was still holding her drink, dark hair framing her astonished face. “You actually found her.”   
  
Blake stood, stock-still, at the foot of the stairs, staring back at Ruby. Ruby, who she hadn’t seen in four and a half years. Ruby, who had been the third member of their, at the time, inseparable group of four. Blake, Weiss, Ruby, and Ruby’s sister-   
  
Blake snapped her eyes up the staircase to Weiss, who was looking at Ruby like she’d just grown a second head. 

“Ruby, your retreat doesn’t end until tomorrow, what are you doing here  _ now _ ? I thought-”   
  
Weiss may have continued talking, but Blake’s ears were suddenly filled with white noise. Ruby was supposed to be at a retreat. Instead, she was at Weiss’ home, late at night, on a weeknight. Weiss’  _ fiancé  _ was supposed to be at a retreat. Ruby’s hand was adorned with a ring that looked more expensive than anything Blake had ever  _ touched _ , let alone owned. Weiss and Ruby had been particularly close back in the day, just like…   
  
Just like she and Yang had been.

Unconsciously, Blake started to turn her body slightly towards the door, taking a step away from Ruby. This situation was too unexpected, too awkward, there were too many feelings here, too much history. But Weiss called out to her from the stairs.   
  
“Blake! Please, don’t…” Weiss trailed off, reaching out slightly, as if she could stop Blake’s movement despite the distance between them. Blake closed her eyes briefly, and her frown intensified. God, she  _ hated  _ feeling trapped, and suddenly this spacious entryway seemed too small, too confining, to hold all the emotional energy that was present. “You promised…”   
  
Blake froze on the spot.  _ Fuck _ . She  _ had  _ just promised. And Weiss sounded… Weiss sounded like she was back in their dorm room, asking if she was a bad person for hating her dad. Like she was ashamed of what she was saying, but couldn’t bring herself to stop the words coming out of her mouth.   
  
The three of them stood, stock-still, until Blake sighed and took a step towards the stairs, away from the front door. Blake pretended not to notice Weiss’ shoulders sag with relief as she did so.    
  
“...Hi, Ruby. It’s… It’s really good to see you. Uh, congratulations, by the way. On the whole wedding thing. Weiss was just going to show me to my room, it’s really late and I’m pretty tired from the flight.” Blake hoped her words sounded more believable to the red-haired woman than they did to her own ears; it felt like it was early evening to her body, and she’d done nothing but chat, read, snack, and nap all day. But Blake was willing to do whatever it took to get out of this conversation. 

Luckily, Ruby seemed to still be reeling from seeing Blake again; she nodded slightly, and only then seemed to notice she had dropped her mug of tea. With a muttered “oh, shit” under her breath, she crouched down and started picking up the shards of ceramic off the floor.   
  
Blake looked pointedly up at Weiss, raising her eyebrows. Weiss blinked, then nodded “Yes, the, uh, I’ll show you to your room.” It was painfully clear that, unlike Blake, Weiss really  _ was _ tired, and having Ruby show up early had thrown her for a loop.   
  
When Weiss arrived at an open door on the second floor, gesturing for Blake to enter, Blake instead shepherded Weiss inside with her suitcase, closing the door behind them with her foot. Dropping her bag on the floor, Blake crossed her arms.   
  
“So you’re marrying Ruby. I mean,  _ obviously _ you’re marrying Ruby, I don’t know how I didn’t expect that. You two were like peas in a pod, why would that have changed… Why didn’t you tell me?”   
  
Weiss sat down on the bed, rubbing at her temple. “Yes, Ruby’s my  fiancé  .  _ Yes _ , you should have seen this coming, and  _ yes _ , I should have told you. But I knew if I could just get you here  _ first _ , I could work everything else out! I truly didn’t think Ruby was going to be home, and I didn’t want your reunion to be like that… But she’s fine with you being here, really! I asked her if she was ok with you being my maid of honor, and she is. She didn’t think I’d be able to find you.”   
  
Blake sat down in the plush armchair next to the door (this ‘guest room’ was almost bigger than her entire apartment, the bed looked to be at least a queen, and this chair would be considered a loveseat, if not a full sofa, in any other home), and frowned at Weiss. “So if you’re marrying Ruby…” Blake paused, feeling slightly nauseous as the obvious conclusion entered her mind. “...she’s Ruby’s maid of honor, isn’t she.”   
  
Weiss could only nod, at least having the decency to look slightly miserable. “I was going to tell you, I  _ was _ , but I know it’s a... sore subject, so I was going to ease into it… I talked to her too, and she was fine with the idea of you being my maid of honor. Like Ruby, she didn’t think I’d be able to find you, but…” Weiss trailed off momentarily, before continuing, “...that’s because I never told them about the phone call. Like you asked me not to.”

Blake let out a slow breath. That, at least, was a small piece of good news. She lifted her mouth in a tiny smile. “Thank you. And, speaking of, how’d you make the jump to surveillance? Hiring a private eye is pretty off the deep end, even for you.”   
  
Weiss glared back, crossing her arms. “Well I  _ tried _ writing letters, for almost six months after… after the phone call. I even tried to call you on the two year anniversary of everything, to make sure you were doing better, but you’d already changed your number. So  _ yes _ , I hired a private investigator to make sure you were ok! And  _ yes _ , I may have kept them on retainer for the past three years, but I wouldn’t have to if you would just communicate, Blake! Why are you so determined to-”   
  
“You know exactly why.” Blake’s tone was icy.   
  
Weiss’ face fell from its upset look into a more sorrowful one. “Blake, I really  _ don’t _ . Even after everything that happened, we still loved you. It destroyed Yang when-”   
  
Blake stood, holding her arms crossed so tight she could feel her muscles start to shake. “It destroyed Yang when  **_my_ ** ex broke into our apartment, attacked us, and tried to burn it down with us inside? You think I don’t know that?? I may have left town, but I still have nightmares  _ every night _ about that! Because of me, Yang lost her arm, her dreams, and everything she  _ owned _ !”

Weiss stood as well now, hands clenched in fists at her side. “She didn’t lose  _ you _ , Blake! God, it’s been three years and you still sound exactly like you did when you called me! I know it’s hard to believe, but the universe does  _ not _ , in fact, revolve around you! What happened was horrible, but-”   
  
Blake cut her off, shouting now. “What happened  _ was _ horrible, you’re right! It was the worst thing that happened in my life, and I’d bet every penny I own it was the worst thing to happen to Yang too! I’m surprised Ruby didn’t attack me  _ on sight _ based on what I did to her sister.” Blake could feel her eyes misting up, but she was on a tear now, and the idea of stopping wasn’t anywhere in her mind. “I’m bad luck, Weiss, I always have been! It would’ve been better for  _ everyone  _ if Adam had just killed me that night, instead of-”   
  
Blake was cut off by the guest room door bursting open. “Don’t  _ say that _ !” Ruby was standing in the doorway, tears streaking down her face. Before Blake could respond at all, the dark-haired woman had rushed into her personal space, and… engulfed her in a tight embrace. The force of the hug drove Blake back a step. Slightly muffled against Blake’s shoulder, Ruby’s words were still audible.   
  
“What happened that night  _ was not _ your fault Blake! It was Adam, all of it. I know it, Weiss knows it, Yang knows it.” When Blake flinched at Yang’s name, Ruby hugged her tighter, continuing to speak. “I’m so glad you’re ok, I knew Weiss knew  _ something _ about you but she wouldn’t ever say anything besides that you  _ were _ ok, but seeing you is so much better. Blake, I missed you so much-” The younger girl’s voice broke, and she stifled a sob into Blake’s shoulder. “Don’t say you wish you’d died.”   
  
Part of Blake wanted to stay angry, to keep yelling about the fact that Weiss had kept  _ very pertinent information _ about the wedding from her when she’d asked Blake to be her maid of honor. But, in the moment, she could only wrap her arms around Ruby, feeling the anger drain out of her as if she was a sieve.    
  
“I missed you too, Rubes.” Looking over at Weiss, Blake was surprised to see tears glistening in her eyes. Seeing Blake’s surprise, Weiss, predictably, flipped her the bird with one hand, while looking towards the ceiling and wiping tears from her eyes with the other. The tension in the room had left, and suddenly Blake was aware how quiet the house was, how dark it was outside the window. As if on cue, as Ruby pulled back from the hug, wiping her eyes, Weiss broke into a gigantic yawn. 

“Alright, it looks like its bed-time. Ruby, it really is nice to see you; you’ll be around tomorrow?” Ruby nodded, and Blake continued. “I’ll make it downstairs for breakfast at some point, but… We can talk more then. It’s late. Weiss needs her beauty sleep.”   
  
Weiss snorted, but stood from the bed and walked to the door, grabbing Ruby’s hand as she went past. Ruby followed her out, but paused at the threshold. She looked back at Blake, eyes still watery, full of concern.   
  
“You’re really staying? For the wedding?”   
  
Blake kept eye contact, and even managed a smile, but she knew it was a bitter, hollow looking thing. “Yeah. I told Weiss I would, and… I owe her one. I won’t disappear.” She said, the word ‘again’ left unspoken.

Ruby gave a small smile, nodded once, and followed Weiss out of the room. Their footsteps went down the hall, and even after Blake closed her door she stayed near it, listening, until she heard the sound of another door closing. With a sigh, she gently thumped her head against the cool oak of her room’s door.   
  
Honestly, all things considered, that reunion hadn’t gone so badly. She’d see how breakfast tomorrow went, but… Ruby did seem happy Blake was here.   
  
Of course, it had never been the thought of her reunion with Ruby that kept Blake from sleeping.


	3. 39 Days B.W.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Slur

_ 39 Days B.W. _

  
  


The sound of a door closing is what woke Blake the next morning. Her eyes opened to see lacy, fluttering curtains, and a ceiling fan she didn’t recognize. After a brief moment of panic at the unfamiliar surroundings, Blake remembered; she was at Weiss’ place.   
  
And then Blake remembered everything else; Weiss was getting married to  _ Ruby _ , who was having  _ Yang _ as her maid of honor. Not that that was a surprise, the two had been close ever since Ruby’s mom, and Yang’s step-mom, had died. Finding that out had gone a long way to explaining Yang’s protective nature regarding Ruby; Blake could still remember Yang tackling some communications major who had called Ruby a ‘dyke’ after seeing the two of them holding hands. After breaking his nose, Yang had said “Two things; first, she’s my  _ sister _ , you dipshit. And second,  _ fuck  _ you.”   
  
Weiss had panicked about Yang being expelled, but somehow, Yang had gotten off with only two weeks of academic suspension, and a week of community service, to be completed around the campus. Blake had asked Yang about her meeting with the Dean of students one night, after some drinking had left Ruby and Weiss passed out on the floor, in front of Disney’s  _ Hercules _ .

“I did what any self respecting woman would do in that situation; I broke out the waterworks. Started talking about how her mom had died, how I felt responsible for raising her, and wanted her to be safe no matter what her sexual orientation. Lied and said I felt horrible for doing it.” Yang had taken a sip of her beer. Blake could remember the moment almost perfectly; leaning on Yang’s left side, cradling her own glass of wine. She had almost spilled it watching a bead of sweat drip down Yang’s throat as the golden-haired girl had swallowed her drink. “He bought it hook, line, and sinker; said his brother was gay and he understood completely.”   
  
Yang had grinned at her then, that special grin she only ever gave Blake. A small, lopsided one, accented by a twinkle in her lilac eyes, maybe a tilt of her eyebrows, if Blake was lucky.   
  
Downstairs, in what must be the kitchen, the sounds of cabinets opening lifted Blake out of her memories. That door closing had probably been Weiss leaving for work, which meant that was almost certainly Ruby in the kitchen. Blake sighed, pulling her hair back into a messy bun. It was time for breakfast.

Breakfast, and probably a painful conversation.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Padding into the kitchen, Blake was still rubbing sleep from her eyes. It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to getting up this early; her shifts often started at 8, which meant waking up much earlier. No, she was accustomed to waking up early, she had just never really adjusted to it. And so, when she saw Ruby, sitting at a table with a second mug of coffee at the seat across from her, it was easy for Blake to give her a genuine smile, and to sit down at the kitchen table.

Ruby smiled back. “I figured that no matter how much time passed, you would still enjoy starting your day with something caffeinated. Plus, I just figured out how to  _ actually _ use the espresso machine Weiss bought and so I made you a latte.”    
  
Blake tried not to think about the fact that the espresso machine in the corner was nicer, newer,  _ and _ bigger than the one she used at her job back in Azure Island. Sipping her coffee, she let out a pleased hum at the taste. Ruby smiled bashfully.   
  
“Yeah, I started drinking a bunch more coffee, and Weiss said it would be cheaper to just have a machine in the house instead of me going and picking one up every morning. It took me like a whole  _ year _ to get the hang of not burning milk when I tried to steam it, but I think I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”   
  
“You have - I work with people who are worse at steaming milk than you, and it's literally our job to make coffee.” Ruby smiled at that, despite a sad look appearing in her eyes. Inwardly, Blake cursed at herself;  _ real smooth asshole, just talk about how much of a failure you are _ . Wanting to steer the conversation away from a discussion about her life, at least for now, Blake asked “So… You and Weiss, huh? When did that officially happen?”   
  
Ruby tilted her head to one side, a puzzled look on her face. “Officially? What do you mean?”   
  
Blake sighed, rolling her eyes and cradling her coffee in both of her hands. “Both of you were _ so _ obviously into each other in college. You were the only person she would honestly smile at, she was the only person who could ask you to be quiet and be successful.” Blake laughed as she leaned to one side, dodging the napkin Ruby had just thrown at her.   
  


Ruby, a light blush rising on her cheeks, huffed at her. “Well… after graduation she talked about needing to move back here to run the company, and not wanting me to not be there, and… At the time I had no idea that she liked me at all as more than a friend, so when she asked if I wanted to come with her I was kinda confused, and then  _ she _ got flustered, because, in retrospect, she’d been flirting more obviously for a few months; sitting closer when we watched movies, she bought me flowers for graduation, which like, I thought was nice, and they  _ were  _ my favorite flowers…” Ruby trailed off, smiling down into her drink. “Anyways, I got confused when she was flustered, and I grabbed her shoulders to get her to face me, to ask why she was acting so… un-Weiss-like. And,” Ruby’s blush grew to a deeper red, spreading down her neck, “then she just kissed me.”   
  
Almost unconsciously, it seemed, Ruby rubbed her lips, still smiling softly and staring into the past. “She was, like,  _ instantly _ apologetic, and she tried to back away, but then  _ I  _ kissed  _ her _ , and…” The younger woman laughed quietly, looking back up at Blake. “Well, we figured it out from there. The wedding’s actually on our three year anniversary of our first kiss.   
  
Blake mimed vomiting into her cup of coffee. “ _ God _ you two are ridiculous, you know that? But, for real, good for you. I was worried neither of you would ever step up and take the plunge of confessing how you actually felt.”   
  
“Oh c’mon Blake, we weren’t that bad!”   
  
Blake leveled her best unimpressed look back at Ruby. “Ruby, every time Weiss was around you got happier, louder, and clumsier. And Weiss blushed so much every time you hugged her it looked like she’d gotten a bad sunburn! The LGBTQ+ club we  _ met _ at had started taking bets as to when you two would get together by your  _ sophomore year _ . I mean, you two  _ shared a room _ in the apartment!” She took a drink, grinning smugly at how much redder Ruby’s blush had grown. “Like, I’m happy for you guys, but you were a bit ridiculous.”   
  
Ruby rolled her eyes, looking away and hiding behind her drink. “Stoooop it Blake! Ugh, we weren’t  _ that _ bad… And like you’re one to talk…”   
  
There was a pause, then. Blake knew she was clenching her jaw, knew she was being obvious about her feelings by the way she had stopped all movement and was staring at the table, brow furrowed. She wanted to say something, make some joke to keep the mood light…   
  
But then too much time had passed after Ruby’s comment, and they were just sitting in Weiss’ kitchen in silence, and all Blake could think about was the four and a half years she’d been gone. How she’d run away after everything that had happened.   
  
She couldn’t help herself; softly, Blake asked, “How  _ is  _ Yang?” She was proud of how her voice didn’t crack when she said Yang’s name; she was less proud of the pause before she’d manage to actually say it. She was less proud, still, of how she continued to stare at the tabletop instead of looking up at Ruby, of how she was pretending her attention was on the interesting designs she was tracing in the wood grain there.

“Why’d you leave?” Blake hated how much she flinched at Ruby’s question, despite its gentle tone. “I mean, it was obvious then, and it seems pretty obvious now that you still care for her. At least in some capacity.” When Blake wasn’t forthcoming with an answer, Ruby sighed, and stood from the table, carrying her empty coffee mug to the sink. “She’s… She’s good. She lives in Atlas too, so you’ll probably see her before the wedding. Since Weiss didn’t tell you she was marrying  _ me _ , I doubt she got around to telling you that.”   
  
Blake groaned, and shook her head in response. At Ruby’s query of “You done?” she held her empty mug towards the sink. Ruby grabbed it, and rinsed it out as well, loading both mugs into the dishwasher.   
  
“No, Weiss didn’t fill me in on that detail either. But, to be fair to her, I’m not sure I would’ve come if she  _ had _ filled me in on everything.” Blake lifted her head, and forced herself to meet Ruby’s eyes, looking at her from where the woman was leaning against the sink. “For what it’s worth... I’m sorry I left so suddenly. I just… the cops had Adam, yeah, but I knew he had other friends out there, and I knew that meant it wasn’t safe for the people around me. You and Yang lost everything you owned in that fire, I just -” Blake was interrupted as Ruby surged forward, pulling her up out of her chair and into another fierce hug. She managed a slight laugh as she hugged Ruby back.   
  
“S’been too long since I could hug you.” Ruby explained into her shoulder. “I forgot how sad you get.” There was another pause there, but it was a more comfortable one than before. 

“I just didn’t want to hurt you anymore than I had.”

Ruby lifted her head from Blake’s shoulder, looking her in the eyes. “You didn’t hurt me, Blake. But apology accepted, and, like I said, it wasn’t your fault. I’m just glad you’re back now.”   
  
Blake didn’t have it in her to bring up the fact she was only here until the wedding. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ruby had mentioned she had some errands to run, including talking to someone at the wedding venue, and would Blake like to come along? Blake had agreed, as she had nothing to do (she was sure that when Weiss got back from her meeting there would be tasks she could help with, but that was a future-Blake problem). And so, at around noon, Blake found herself getting out of Ruby’s car in front of the Atlas Botanical Garden. She had heard that it was one of the best on the planet, and finally being here in person… Well, so far it was not disappointing. Ruby had ducked inside the admin building, saying Blake should feel free to wander about, and so she was walking down rows of brightly colored flowers, water features burbling in the background, and birds chirping in the trees.    
  
It was a phenomenally sunny day, but as it was a Thursday, at noon, the gardens weren’t packed with people. As she wandered around, Blake found her thoughts returning to Yang. They had been quite close in college, Ruby was right. Blake, being an only child, and going to school so far from any family, had fallen instantly into a comfortable, teasing routine with Yang. She  _ would _ describe her as the older sister she never had, except…    
  
Except Yang had an intensity to her, at times. When she was training at the gym, when she was worried about Ruby, when she was losing at a video game, her eyes darkened from their usual lilac to something closer to red, depending on how upset she got. And it wasn’t that Yang got upset with Blake often, quite the opposite; Blake couldn’t remember a single time they’d actually had a fight. Disagreements, sure, but barely anything that could even be qualified as an argument. No, it wasn’t that.   
  
It was the specific intensity that Yang always had when she spoke with, or even looked at Blake. And Blake was naturally a quiet person; she shied away from attention at any opportunity, disliked speaking in front of crowds-   
  
Blake stopped walking.  _ There _ was a thought; she would have to start writing her maid of honor speech. Which she would have to give at the wedding reception. Blake groaned, audibly, and walked over to a bench under a towering tree (a sycamore maybe? Blake had never been one for botany), and sat down, leaning against the tree trunk in it’s shade..   
  
She had closed her eyes, enjoying the wind and the fragrant plants of the garden, and after about ten minutes she heard Ruby’s voice, drifting closer. Opening her eyes, Blake saw that Ruby had exited the admin building, and was wandering the garden paths. As she walked closer, Blake realized two things: Ruby was on the phone with someone.   
  
And they were talking about Blake.   
  
“...course I wouldn’t joke about this. I know. I  _ know _ . No, Weiss just walked in with her.  _ Right _ ?”   
Ruby paused, listening to her phone. Blake thought about calling out across the rows of flowers, of waving to get Ruby’s attention. Before she could, the other woman spotted her, resting beneath the tree.   
  
“Anyways, I gotta go Yang. I’ll call you later. Love you too.” And Ruby hung up.   
  
Blake did her best to look like she was still enjoying the weather, like she wasn’t dying to know what Yang thought of the news that, after almost four and a half years, Blake was back in town.    
  
Who was she kidding; how could Yang be anything but upset at the prospect of seeing her again?   
  
“So, whaddya think of the gardens?” Blake glanced up from where she’d been pretending to look at her phone. Ruby was in front of her, gesturing at the expanse of plants and waggling her eyebrows. If her hands had been moving more, it would have been a pose to strike at the end of a big band jazz number.   
  
Blake smiled. “It’s phenomenal, it really is. I can’t wait to see it all lit up at night for the actual wedding.” She was telling the truth; in a month’s time every plant here would be in bloom, and with the wedding scheduled to happen just at dusk, it would be a truly stunning scene. As she imagined it, Blake felt the moment where it would be appropriate to ask about Yang slip away; it would’ve been awkward to start, and now too much time had passed to admit ‘Hey, I accidentally eavesdropped on your half of your conversation with your sister just now; how does she feel that I’m in town, after disappearing with no goodbye after what must be the worst night of both of your lives?”   
  
So she simply stood up, and walked with Ruby out of the gardens. Ruby kept up a running monologue, talking about the planned lighting set-up, where the reception would be (also in the garden, but under those trees over there), how this was where she and Weiss had gone on their first Official Date. Blake nodded along, made supportive comments, asked follow-up questions where they were warranted, and did her best to pay attention.   
  
But as she walked away from the sunflowers she had been sitting by, she was preoccupied with thoughts of blonde hair.


	4. 32 Days B.W.

_32 Days B.W._

  
  


Blake had settled into something of a rhythm with Weiss and Ruby; now that Weiss was officially taking time off of work, the three of them tended to all gather for some breakfast at around 9, and then Blake would end up riding along with one of them to do wedding errands, or helping Weiss run-through the logistics behind what times various staff (catering, decorators, sound, etc) would need to arrive at the botanical gardens to set up, or just in general helping around the house (watering plants, putting clean dishes away, just odd jobs). In the ample free time that this loose schedule provided, Blake indulged in some great relaxation; she read with Weiss in the library (yes, Weiss’ mansion had a library), she visited the Atlas animal shelter with Ruby (“Weiss says that we can talk about getting a dog _after_ the wedding.”), and just enjoyed spending time with two of her best (still?) friends.   
  
And so, after a week of feeling like she was settling into something of a rhythm, Blake was moderately surprised to hear a knock on her guest room door one Friday night. She frowned, blinking slightly, and crossed the room to the door. It was obviously Ruby or Weiss (there was no one else in the house), but she had just seen both of them at the end of their movie double feature.   
  
She opened her door; Weiss stood in the hallway, looking anxious. As Blake opened her door, her face dropped into a vaguely polite mask. “Ah, Blake, hello. Can I come in?”   
  
Blake stepped aside, gesturing Weiss into her room with a flourish. “Only if you promise to drop the boardroom look and just say what’s bothering you.” When Weiss’ eyes darted up to her’s, Blake gave her a small smile, trying to reassure her. Blake wasn’t sure what had driven Weiss to be this nervous, or come talk to her tonight, but the least she could do was try to get the bride-to-be to relax.   
  
Weiss sighed. “That’s fair, I suppose.” She walked into the room, and sat on the bed. Blake raised her eyebrows.   
  


“Soooo, what’s up Weiss?” Weiss merely rolled her eyes and patted the bed next to her in response. Blake closed the door, and crossed to sit beside the heiress. 

  
“So, tomorrow is your first appointment to get your dress fitted; I’ve contacted the best tailor in Atlas, and reserved two times. The first one is tomorrow, for a general fitting, and the second is a week later, to make sure everything’s perfect.” Blake nodded; trust Weiss to have everything planned to a t.

  
“The reason I’m in your room at ten at night is that… the appointments aren’t just for you. And they aren’t for Ruby or I either; we’ve already had our first, last week, and we each have a second follow-up a few days before the wedding.” Blake frowned slightly, and then suddenly understood.   
  
Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly through her nose. “Yang, right?” At Weiss’ nod, Blake took a second, bigger breath. “Thanks for the heads-up, I guess.” She muttered.   
  
Weiss started rubbing circles on her back. “Look, Blake, you’ve got to see her at _some_ point. It made sense to schedule you two together, and honestly Coco, the tailor, is _great_ and I know she’ll do a great job…”   
  
The paler woman was rambling, Blake could tell. Blake chuckled. “As long as Yang doesn’t punch me hard enough to break anything it should be fine. It’s been four years, I can handle a painful afternoon.” Weiss looked at Blake, eyebrows furrowed and lips tilted down in a frown. She looked long enough for it to be classified as a ‘stare’, then just sighed.

“You really think she hates you.” Blake looked down at her hands, fidgeting in her lap. She swallowed, and opened her mouth to reply to Weiss. But… What was she going to say? Of course Yang hated her; Blake was directly responsible for ruining Yang’s life. Surely Weiss understood that.  
  
Weiss bounced her feet gently against the bed frame as she sat next to Blake. After a few moments of silence, she put her hand on Blake’s back. “Anyways, I wanted to let you know so you weren’t blindsided tomorrow. It’s a private boutique, I booked the entire afternoon, tried to make it as stress free as possible for you.” Weiss pulled Blake in a side hug, resting her head on the girl’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine, Blake, I swear. You can do this.”   
  
Blake leaned into Weiss’ hug, but her response was limited to a slight hum after Weiss had finished talking. After a few more moments of silence on Blake’s part, Weiss eventually stood from the bed, ruffled Blake’s hair slightly, and left her bedroom. She paused in the doorway, and said, “Your appointment’s at 1:30, I’ll text you the address tomorrow.” before shutting Blake’s door.   
  
Blake stayed seated, staring at the floor in front of her, as the clock in her room ticked on.

  
  


_31 Days B.W._

  
  


As she approached **_Coco’s Corrections_ ** , the shop Weiss had made her appointment at, Blake had a moment of regret.   
  
Well, that was inaccurate. As happy as she was for Weiss and Ruby, and as truly relaxing as her trip to Atlas had been thus far, Blake had been having _many_ moments of regret since arriving in the city. But specifically, she was currently regretting not sleeping more the night before. She was rested, sort of, but it was less rest then one would want before seeing your ex-best friend. If ‘best friend’ even covered what they had been, back then.. Nevertheless, here she was, thirty minutes early for her appointment, exhausted, fighting the start of a headache and just a general bad mood.   
  
The headache was mostly due to the lack of sleep, and probably a lack of hydration as well, but to blame the bad mood entirely on lack of sleep was perhaps a bit unfair, Blake reflected as she entered the shop. A bell chimed softly as she opened the door, revealing a sleek interior, lined with dark mahogany, soft-looking curtains over the front window, and an empty counter in front of a few seats. Past the counter, Blake could see what looked to be a smattering of dressing rooms, as well as a large table, most likely where the alterations were done.   
  
Her bad mood _was_ due to the lack of sleep she got; however, the lack of sleep was due to nerves about seeing Yang again, and the fact that she had nerves about seeing Yang was because she had run away in the first place, and so _really_ Blake’s bad mood was entirely of her own devising. This neat logic, unfortunately, did nothing to alleviate her sour temperament. But, she _had_ arrived early; hopefully she could be half-way through her appointment by the time Yang even arrived. She would weather that interaction, no matter how stormy it was, and then return back to Weiss’ manor (it was legitimately called Schnee Manor, Ruby had told her the other day) to read a book she’d chosen from Weiss’ library. She could curl up and lose herself in the story, and not think about the mistakes she’d made years ago.   
  
That was her plan, at least.   
  
After ringing the bell on the counter a few times, and peering past the counter, Blake let out a sigh and resigned herself to the fact that, despite her early arrival, her appointment seemed to be destined to start on time, at 1:30. Hopefully Yang would be late anyways.   
  
Sitting in one of the chairs near the counter, scrolling through her phone, Blake was startled when the door to the shop opened, the bell chiming. Looking up, she was greeted by the sight of two brown-haired women, chatting with each other as they entered the shop. One of them was wearing dark sunglasses, and had an outfit that looked almost as expensive as something Weiss would wear. The other woman…   
  
Blake blinked, slightly confused. “Velvet, is that you?” The second woman froze, a smile growing on her face.   
  
“Blake? Oh my _gosh_ , it’s been so long hiiiii!” Before Blake could react, Velvet was pulling her up out of the chair and into an enthusiastic hug. As Blake wrapped her arms around the friend she hadn’t seen since college, she made eye contact with the other woman, who Blake guessed was probably the _Coco_ from the shop’s title.

“So _you’re_ my 1:30 for Schnee, hmm? I’m Coco, nice to meet you…” The woman peered appraisingly at Blake over her glasses, giving her a once over as she stepped away from her hug. As Velvet engaged in a rapid-fire conversation covering a multitude of topics (How was Blake doing? _What_ was Blake doing, it’d been so long! Was Blake excited for the wedding? Weren’t Ruby and Weiss adorable together? Blake did her best to give honest responses, or at least reponses, to every question posed), Blake was glad she’d given a bit of extra thought to her outfit today. She loved the jacket she was wearing, and she knew it looked great on her. Combine that with the tights showing off her legs, a cute skirt, and some nice boots, and Blake felt confident in her look. That confidence wavered somewhat as Coco continued to assess her outfit, but eventually the woman gave her a slight nod, and walked past her and into the shop proper.   
  
“Well, since you’re here early, let’s begin. Oh, and pardon Velvet, she had too much coffee with her lunch.” As Coco walked into the back of the shop, she beckoned to Blake, once, without looking back. Velvet, blushing slightly at her boss’ chiding, immediately switched topics to the dress Blake was about to try on, and the color scheme in general for the wedding, and how exciting weddings were.   
  
Blake took a deep breath, and walked with Velvet back towards the dressing room. It was nice to see a friendly face, and, if nothing else, she had succeeded in getting her appointment started before Yang arrived. Maybe today wouldn’t be so awful.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Blake almost fell over in the changing room when she heard the door chime a second time. It wasn’t that she was surprised (she was), or had forgotten to keep expecting it (she had), it was that Yang instantly greeted Velvet, and…

And Blake had forgotten exactly how Yang’s voice sounded. 

Mentally, Blake shook herself. Doing her best to tune out the familiar conversation taking place at the front of the store (why _wouldn’t_ it be familiar, they’d known each other in college too, and Yang lived here now), Blake shimmied herself into the dress Weiss had picked out, which, surprisingly, was mainly black. It _was_ a nice dress, especially for a bridesmaid. As she reached behind her back to zip up the dress, Blake realized she hadn’t seen or heard anything about what Ruby or Weiss would be wearing; she knew that bridesmaids typically wore more plain dresses, so as to not overshadow the main event, so to speak.   
  
But, as she looked at herself in the mirror, if she was wearing _this_ , what was Weiss wearing? Shifting back and forth as she looked at herself, Blake couldn’t help but be pleased; the dress had some gold accents on it,intricate curling patterns around the arms and hemline, and overall looked great on Blake. Not _too_ much cleavage, the slit on the side didn’t go scandalously high, but… it was a great dress. Weiss probably didn’t want to give her any excuses to back out of the wedding, and Blake had to admit that, where the dress was concerned, she had none.

She was torn out of her thoughts by a sharp double knock on the doorframe of the dressing room. “Everything coming along ok in there?” Coco’s dry tone implied impatience, but Velvet had said earlier that “Weiss reserved our whole afternoon, just for the maids of honor!” so Blake figured it was just how the woman always sounded. More disconcerting was the fact that, at Coco’s knock, the conversation between Yang and Velvet had stopped. Blake sighed, releasing any last vestiges of hope that she wouldn’t directly interact with Yang today, and pulled the dressing room curtain to the side, stepping out into the main room.  
  
She tried, she _really_ tried, to keep her eyes on Coco, or on the floor, or on any of the other outfits hanging around the shop, but as soon as she stepped into Yang’s eyeline, she couldn’t help but glance at the woman.

In many ways, Yang was almost unrecognizable when compared to Blake’s memories. Most jarring was her hair; the right side of her head was shaved close, down to a soft blonde fuzz, and the rest of her hair was much shorter than it had been. At its longest, it barely brushed Yang’s chin, mainly just framing her face along its left side. Her arm was only not as jarring because of how at ease the woman seemed with it; at the end of her right bicep, there was a clear seam where flesh pressed up against her prosthesis. But the black and gold shades of it, the light outline of a bumblebee etched onto the forearm, and the casual way Yang leaned her chin on her fist as she looked at Blake… It seemed like second nature, and after four years, it probably was. She was wearing a tanktop that said “Lesbi-honest, I’m into women”, and a dark pair of skinny jeans. She looked, in short, incredible.  
  
And the way she looked at Blake; it had been more than four years, but the intensity in Yang’s gaze hadn’t diminished. Yang had always been intense, that’s what drew Blake to be her friend in the first place. But to have that intensity focused on you, and you alone… Blake had forgotten how that felt. From the look on Yang’s face, she was… Well, if Blake had to describe the look on Yang’s face to someone else, she might have used words like ‘disbelieving’, or ‘shocked’. To be honest, though, the golden-haired woman looked like someone who had been wandering the desert, and had just caught her first glimpse of an oasis. Her jaw had fallen slightly open, and only after a moment did she drop her eyes from Blake’s, giving the dress a quick once over before returning to intense eye contact.   
  
Blake tore her eyes away, blushing slightly. It was like standing alone on a stage, in a spotlight, for an audience of one. Not unpleasant, necessarily, but different than how anyone else had ever looked at her. Adam _may_ have matched her for intensity, but his stares were always leering, uncomfortable things, even early on. Yang’s were like standing in a ray of sunlight. Blake was glad she was wearing such a flattering dress.   
  
Luckily, Coco either didn’t notice the interaction, or didn’t care; she was almost instantly moving Blake’s arms this way and that, pulling at the dress here and there, asking if it was too tight, and the moment (had it been a ‘moment’?) between Blake and Yang was past. Eventually, as Coco started to safety pin bits of the dress into place, Blake saw Velvet stand from the counter, grab a garment bag from a hook on the wall, and walk Yang back towards another dressing room. As they passed by, Blake couldn’t stop her eyes from flitting back to Yang’s. Her lilac eyes were still staring back, a small smile on her face.   
  
“Blake,” she said, with a slight nod, as she stepped around Coco and towards a dressing room. Blake didn’t manage any response, but was saved by Coco declaring she was done, go take off that dress please, accompanied by a not-so-gentle push back towards her dressing room. Blake pulled the curtain back into place and started changing back into the outfit she’d come in. Yang hadn’t seemed unhappy to see her, which was… Which was surprising, to put it bluntly. It was probably because there were other people around, Yang was surely just avoiding a scene.   
  
Except, back in college, Yang had never shied away from a confrontation, hadn’t ever been bothered by the idea of starting a loud argument, despite her location. So why was she staying quiet now, putting on a calm face? Blake frowned, shaking her head slightly, as she slipped her boots back on. A question for another day; if she was quick she could leave while Yang was still changing, and then that would be today’s challenges conquered.   
  
Stepping out of the dressing room, she handed the gown back to Coco, who gestured towards Velvet; Velvet, now sitting back at the front counter motioned her over. “Gosh, you looked so _great_ Blake! Anyways, the follow-up fitting is next week, same day same time, just to make sure the adjustments fit _perfectly_ . Oh, and if you could bring the shoes and make-up you’ll be wearing, Coco wants to ensure the entire look is perfect!.” Blake nodded, trying to appear as though she was paying attention, and _not_ like she was calculating how many steps it would take her to leave the shop. At the sound of a dressing room curtain being pulled aside, however, Blake turned, wanting despite herself to see Yang’s outfit.   
  
When Yang stepped into view, Blake’s thoughts stopped. The blonde-haired woman was wearing a _very_ nicely fitted off-white suit. In lieu of a shirt, Yang had a deep purple camisole on; with the suit jacket buttoned, it was barely visible, drawing more attention to the expanse of smooth skin on her chest. The entire thing made Yang’s hair and eyes seem to glow. Yang turned around once, looking down at her arms, then folded them and met Blake’s eyes. _Here_ was a look that Blake remembered; a challenging, slightly taunting look, with one eyebrow raised.   
  
“Well? How do I look?”

Blake’s only comfort was that Coco and Velvet also seemed struck by how good Yang was making the outfit look. The former blinked at Yang’s words, before stepping closer and beginning to check the fit of the suit; the latter remained gaping at Yang, her mouth hanging open. Blake realized the question had been for her to answer.  
  


“...You look amazing.” As soon as Blake said it, she could tell she’d surprised Yang. The other woman’s eyes softened, her look relaxing out of its smugness, and she gave Blake a genuine smile. Slightly crooked, slightly shy, it was the exact smile Blake remembered seeing on Yang’s face. This was even _more_ confusing; Yang had never been great at hiding her emotions, how was she doing so well now? Was four years enough time to learn how to put up a mask this solid?   
  
Coco and Velvet were still staying quiet; a compliment followed by silence didn’t feel like a great way to end a conversation, especially her first with Yang in four years. How did she used to act around Yang? As Blake tried to puzzle out what else she could say, she realized her mouth was already moving. “That suit looks great on you,” She paused, opening the door to the shop, and then looking back over her shoulder at Yang. Part of Blake’s brain was screaming internally to not finish the line.   
  
“It’d look even better on my floor.”   
  
Blake walked out of the shop, cheeks flushing, but not before seeing Yang’s eyes widen in shock, and a smirk appear on her lips. Sure, blatant flirting was normally Yang’s move, but it had normally been _with_ Blake; if Yang wanted to act like nothing was the matter, Blake could understand that. They could just ignore their history, and, in a few weeks, Blake would head back home to Mistral, and that would be that.

Everything would go back to normal.


	5. 28 Days B.W.

_ 28 Days B.W. _

  
  


In retrospect, Blake should’ve planned ahead more.   
  
This wasn’t a new thought for Blake to have, she ruminated, as she poured drinks for Jaune and Pyrrha. They were some of the last to arrive for the Combined Bachelorette Game Night Bonanza (Ruby’s name, obviously), and Blake had settled into playing hostess nicely. Ruby and Weiss were both already hip-deep in a pictionary match with Ren, Nora, Sun, and Neptune. From the shouting, it was either going quite well, or quite poorly, but, either way, they seemed to be having fun.   
  
And it wasn’t that she minded playing hostess; making drinks for people gave her something to do while the awkward conversation of “Hey Blake, I haven’t seen you in like four years, what’s been going on?” took place. And while she wasn’t the  _ biggest _ fan of gatherings over four people, Blake did know most of these people, and it had, so far, been surprisingly fun to see them again, and catch up with what they’d been doing.   
  
(Blake’s answers to “what’s been going on?” had been non-committal deflections away from herself, directing the conversation back to the other guests. So far, only Ren seemed to have noticed that, but he had just squinted at her before talking about moving in with Nora last year)   
  
No, what was making Blake think she should have planned ahead more was the fact that,  _ obviously _ , Yang was coming tonight, and the last thing Blake had said to her was a cheesy pick-up line that had been out-dated the first time it had been uttered by anyone. At the time, Blake had felt it would make things between them feel more normal. She  _ hadn’t _ considered the fact that she’d be seeing Yang at other times besides the follow-up fitting appointment, and the wedding; tonight was the bachelorette party, for both Ruby and Weiss, and then there was the rehearsal dinner, and this morning Ruby had mentioned at breakfast that Yang was taking the week of the wedding off entirely so she could help out if need be, so she might just be stopping by the manor to check in.

(Ruby had also mentioned that Yang was ‘on call’ tonight; hadn’t Yang been studying to be a physical therapist? Did they  _ go _ on call? Blake had forced herself to keep pretending to read the book she’d brought down to breakfast, and hadn’t asked any of these questions of Ruby)   
  
Overall, it sounded like Blake and Yang would be seeing  _ much _ more of each other than Blake felt prepared for. If she had just bit the bullet and apologized yesterday when she first saw Yang, that might’ve worked… a confrontation in front of Coco and Velvet would’ve been awkward, but at least it would’ve been  _ over _ then, Blake would know where they stood.   
  
For the fourth time that night, Blake wished she still trusted herself to drink alcohol.

The doorbell interrupted her thoughts, and Blake took a deep breath, leaving the kitchen and walking towards the main foyer. There was a chance this wasn’t Yang yet; Weiss had said Velvet and Coco might come as well, though neither of them had RSVP’d (this last bit had been accompanied by a signature  _ Weiss Eyeroll _ ™ , and made the white-haired woman look every bit the wealthy heiress she was). Steeling herself, Blake opened the front door.   
  
Yang was there, suddenly standing almost too close. She was wearing acid washed jeans, a plain black tank-top, and that same biker jacket she’d worn all the time in college was hanging casually open. As always, she looked incredible.

“Hi,” Blake managed. Suddenly she wished she’d brought snazzier clothing with her from Mistral, that she  _ owned _ snazzier clothes. But that impulse was quickly drowned out by shame and disgust; she shouldn’t be thinking about impressing Yang, and what’s more she no doubt  _ couldn’t _ . There wasn’t a world where-

Blake’s train of thought was derailed, sharply, as Yang smiled at her. “Hi. I, uh, brought some cider.” Yang lifted her right arm (Blake willed herself to look at the drinks, and not at the metallic hand extending from the jacket sleeve), showing a six pack of, indeed, cider. Blake didn’t recognize the brand. What Blake did recognize was an opportunity to fall back into the hostess role, a role she had  _ thoroughly  _ vacated by keeping Yang in the doorway for this long.   
  
Blake reached out to take the cider. “Oh, thanks! I’ll, uh, put this in the kitchen. You can come in, obviously, I mean you were invited and you’ve been here before, and… I’ll just put this in the kitchen. They’re all-” Blake’s rambling was interrupted by more shouting from the pictionary game. “-in the living room, or sitting room I guess? They’re in that room with all the couches and that amazing landscape painting, playing pictionary. Did you want anything to drink?” The last question was given over her shoulder, as Blake walked away back towards the kitchen.  _ Real smooth Blake, just *super* casual… _

“Yeah, a drink sounds nice.” Blake heard Yang close the front door, and her footsteps follow her towards the kitchen. By the time Yang caught up, Blake was already putting the six-pack in the fridge. Unwilling to stay still or make eye contact with Yang, Blake busied herself preparing a drink, grabbing a bottle of expensive whiskey from the counter.   
  
“You sound tired; long day at work?” It was true, Yang did sound tired. This was a safe conversational topic, right? People talked about their work all the time.   
  
Yang let out a groan, and, glancing over, Blake saw her rolling her shoulders and stretching; Blake did  _ not _ stare at the exposed strip of Yang’s stomach revealed by the stretch. As Yang’s lilac orbs met hers again, Blake turned her attention back to drink-making, grabbing the lemon juice.

“Ugh, yeah it was a slog today. Had a drunk driver crash into a tree at two PM, right next to a playground. Then a domestic violence call… Yeah, just a long day.” Yang shook her head. In her peripheral vision, Blake could see the golden-haired woman running her hand through her hair. At some point, she’d taken off her jacket; it was now on the back of one of the kitchen table’s chairs. As her hand carded through her hair, eventually moving to rub the back of her neck, Blake did her best not to stare at how defined it made her bicep look. Yang had always been something of a gym rat, and apparently that hadn’t changed. 

Blake realized she’d been staring, hands still around the now finished drink. Yang, going by the slight smirk, had  _ also _ realized Blake had been staring. Blushing, and looking away, Blake slid the drink over. Yang took it, and even without meeting the other woman’s eyes Blake could tell Yang was still staring at her.

“Thanks for the, uh…” Yang peered down at the drink in her hand.

“Whiskey sour.” Blake finished the sentence for her. “It was-”  _ oh god I just made her favorite drink without asking it’s been  _ **_four years_ ** “-always your favorite…” Blake let the sentence trail off, a blush dusting her cheeks. “If you want something else, like one of those ciders, or-”   
  
Yang shook her head. “No, this is great.” She took a sip of the drink, and made a pleased sound. Blake desperately tried not to watch her throat as she swallowed. “You always made the best mixed drinks.”   
  
There was a moment then, a beat of silence as the two stood, only a corner of the counter separating them. The sounds of the rest of the group could still be heard from the living room, frantic guessing and laughter. But here, under the sole overhead light of the kitchen, with the windows showing the dark night sky, it was almost peaceful. The perfect time to, say, apologize for past mistakes.

“So are you, like, a cop now? Ruby mentioned you were on call, and then when you were talking about how it was a long day…” Blake did her best to appear casual; this was a normal conversation, between two incredibly-estranged friends. Luckily, Yang seemed more than willing to go along with it.   
  
“Me, a  _ cop _ ?  _ Fuck  _ no, can you imagine? Who would trust me with a gun? No, I’m an EMT; we get brought in when calls are extra tricky, besides doing more ‘normal’ ambulance stuff, and other stuff that needs doing. Like, two months ago we got to go talk to some elementary kids, that was super fun." Yang took another gulp of her drink.   
  
Blake quirked one eyebrow. “How many times did you swear in front of those poor children?” 

“Hey, I’ll have you know I only  _ almost _ -cursed once, and that was because I slammed my knee into one of their tables!” As Blake giggled slightly, Yang continued. “Look, they’re low tables! I was talking to one of the kids, it wasn’t even  _ in _ my peripheral vision! God, my crew gave me shit for an entire  _ week _ after that…” Yang smiled down into her drink. “There was actually a girl there who reminded me of you.”   
  
Blake let out another snort. “What, absurdly quiet and wearing all black?”   
  
Yang shook her head, looking back up into Blake’s eyes. “No; she carried a book with her the whole day, as far as I could see. She was shy, but interested in what we were talking about, so she took some coaxing to come out of her shell.” Yang paused, her lips quirking into that crooked smile she saved seemingly only for Blake. “Plus, she was  _ very _ cute.”   
  
Blake’s stomach lurched, not entirely unpleasantly, but she was saved from having to respond to Yang’s story by Ruby barging into the kitchen. “Yang, you made it!” Yang barely had time to put her drink down on the counter before Ruby was diving into her arms for a hug. Yang laughed.   
  
“Of  _ course _ I made it, I’m your maid of honor  _ and _ your big sister! I wouldn’t miss this for the world!”    
  
Blake took her opportunity to grab her glass of water and sneak out of the kitchen; she wasn’t sure how to respond to blatant flirting from Yang, not anymore. Sure, it had been their ‘normal’ years ago, and  _ sure, _ it was most likely Blake’s fault it was happening again, since she started it at Coco’s shop…    
  
But that had been in front of an audience; acting like things were fine and normal in front of other people. Yang’s comment had been just for Blake, and Blake wasn’t sure what to think about that.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Coco and Velvet ended up arriving a full 45 minutes after Yang had; luckily, they rang the doorbell in the middle of what was becoming a full-fledged shouting match between Weiss and Nora (excerpts included “Ponies are  _ not _ horses!”, “My  _ dog  _ could draw a better boat than that!”, and Blake’s personal favorite, “For the last time, sharks DO NOT have arms!”). After the interruption, the group agreed that, perhaps, it was time to move past Pictionary, and on to something else. 

Blake continued to play hostess through the rest of the night, refilling drinks, bringing food out from the kitchen (Weiss had ordered a  _ staggering _ array of snacks, from charcuterie to delivery pizza to a small build-your-own-cookie bar), and ensuring everyone was having a good time. She ended up sitting next to Pyrrha and Ren, across the room from Yang. On the positive side, this meant almost no chance of casual physical contact between them. On the negative side, she was  _ intensely _ aware of how much of the night Yang spent staring at her.

Of course, Blake thought to herself as she sat, pretending to be paying attention to the more-than-somewhat drunken game of charades going on, she wouldn’t be as aware of how much Yang was staring at her if  _ she  _ didn’t keep sneaking glances at the woman herself. Blake tried to hide her glances, peering at Yang over the rim of her water glass, or out of the corner of her eye as she ate a bite of something or other. And, almost every time, she was flustered to find Yang staring back at her. Stranger still, every time their eyes met, Yang didn’t call her out, or shoot her a smug smile, or make some obscene gesture, or do something to try to make Blake laugh; no, instead of what Blake would’ve classified as ‘normal Yang reactions’, at least as of four years ago, the woman would give Blake that same small, crooked smile, accompanied by a slight furrowing in her brow, as if she was thinking about something.   
  
Blake supposed that, in all fairness, Yang  _ did  _ have a lot to think about where Blake was concerned.   
  
Eventually, after more charades, some Cranium, and a  _ surprisingly  _ competitive game of Nerts between Weiss, Nora, Coco, and Sun, people started to leave. For most, the drinking had stopped hours ago, and they had finally sobered up; for some, Sun, Neptune, and Yang among them, the drinking had merely slowed, and Weiss was showing them to various guest rooms around the manor.   
  
Blake overheard this from the kitchen, where she was cleaning up. Putting leftover food into tupperware (it had been in the first spot she looked, in the cabinet to the left of the oven, on the bottom shelf; bless Weiss’ sensible organization), moving bottles of liquor back into their cabinet, gathering empty beer bottles and putting them in the recycling bin, that sort of thing. She hadn’t wanted to deal with the goodbyes; Velvet, who was now very drunk but getting a ride home with Coco, seemed like a prime candidate for awkward late-night comments about Blake being absent for years, but Nora had also been glaring at Blake on and off all night. Honestly, it would be hard to imagine any of them  _ didn’t _ know; anyone who hadn’t been part of their friend group in college was here as a guest of someone who was, and as the maid of honor on Weiss’ side Blake couldn’t imagine the story hadn’t come up.   
  
She could practically hear how they would’ve heard:  _ So, they were all close friends back in college, right? Well, one night, Blake’s boyfriend, or ex, or something, showed up at the apartment they all shared, and- _

Blake ripped her thoughts away from imagining  _ exactly _ what had been said about her, and focused on fitting all the leftovers into the fridge. While massive, it had also been fairly well stocked before tonight, and so finding space for this much food was proving to be slightly challenging. The sounds of goodbyes and the front door closing served as a nice white noise to encourage her focus, and, after only a few fixated minutes, she managed to find space for a gallon of milk on top of the egg carton, freeing up a spot for the last tupperware. Satisfied, she closed the fridge door.   
  
As she did so, she saw Yang, leaning against the wall just inside the kitchen. Blake was proud of resisting her urge to jolt in panic, and for resisting the urge to let out an undignified squeak of panic.   
  
She was less proud of her actual reaction, which was to stare into Yang’s lilac eyes, hand still holding the refrigerator handle, mouth slightly open in surprise.   
  
To be fair, Yang didn’t do anything once Blake noticed she was leaning there. She had a slight frown on her face, her brow gently furrowed in thought, but she was definitely looking at Blake.   
  
Eventually, after a moment (a minute? Five minutes? A month?) Blake recovered, and turned back to the sink. “I thought you’d be heading home by now.” It was almost midnight, and Yang  _ had _ said she’d had a long day. When Yang didn’t respond immediately, Blake glanced over at her. “What, too drunk to drive comfortably? You only had, what, that one whiskey sour, and then one of your ciders.”   
  
Yang’s focus had not shifted from Blake as she’d moved to the sink, and it didn’t shift as Yang replied, “I know.”   
  
Blake turned back to the dishes, feeling slightly off kilter. “I, uh, I didn’t think I made that drink that strong, sorry-” but Yang cut off her apology.   
  
“No no, you’re fine, it wasn’t too strong at all. Like I said, you make the best mixed drinks.” Yang paused for a moment, leaving the kitchen to be filled only with the gentle sounds of running water, and a sponge scrubbing on plates. She tilted her head to one side. “You only drank water.”   
  
Blake froze, momentarily.  _ Yang paid attention to what I was or wasn’t drinking. _ Slowly starting to clean dishes again, she audibly swallowed before forcing herself to reply.   
  
“...Umm, yeah.” The comment hung in the air, like a helium balloon that had leaked enough gas to not rise or fall, just float on the spot. Blake braced herself for a follow up question, a comment about how often she’d drank in college, how much she used to enjoy being drunk.   
  
“I’m, uh, I’m staying at the manor tonight; Ruby wants help with her vows tomorrow, so we’re gonna grab a brunch and go over what she’s got, and I’ll convince her that what she has is pretty good and she shouldn’t call off the wedding just because they aren’t perfect.”   
  
Blake shut off the faucet, drying her hands with a towel as she turned around. Yang still had that furrow in her brow, eyes slightly squinting, as if she was looking at a math problem that read “2+2=5”. The sounds of friends leaving or going upstairs had died down to nothing, and, with the lack of running water in the kitchen, Blake was suddenly struck by how quiet it was, how late it was.   
  
How intimate this moment between them suddenly felt.

“Is she really that stressed about her vows?” Blake leaned back against the counter, unable to look away from Yang.   
  
The golden-haired woman chuckled softly, her prosthetic arm coming up to scratch at the back of her neck. “I mean, it’s  _ Ruby _ . She’s overthinking it, and spiraling slightly, like she does. It’s probably just general nerves about the wedding, the usual. She’ll be fine after venting, she’s just not used to not sharing stuff with Weiss.”   
  
Blake smiled softly. “Yeah, it seems like they’ve only gotten closer.” Lingering, unspoken between them, was the thought that Blake and Yang  _ hadn’t  _ followed that arc. Blake suddenly realized she’d been staring into Yang’s eyes without speaking for too long, and dropped her gaze to the floor. “So, do you need to find a guest room? I can go get Weiss, or…” She trailed off.   
  
Yang shook her head, scoffing slightly. “Nah, I’ve got a guest room of my own. When, uh… After graduation, when Ruby, Weiss, and I moved here, Ruby wanted to make sure I knew I’d always have a place here, no matter what.”   
  
_ Stupid, obviously she’d already have sleeping arrangements set up, she’s probably over here all the time because  _ **_she_ ** _ visits often because  _ **_she_ ** _ didn’t move a continent and a half away from everyone she’s ever known _ . “Oh, that’s, umm, that’s nice.” Blake did her best to ignore her internal monologue yelling at her, and tossed the dish towel she’d been fidgeting with onto the counter. She gestured to the door behind Yang. “Shall we, then?”   
  
Yang blinked, and then nodded, smiling softly at Blake. “Yeah, I guess it is getting late.”   
  
As they walked out of the kitchen, and toward the main stairs, Blake replied, “ _ Getting _ late? Yang, it’s literally  _ tomorrow _ right now, it’s almost 12:20 in the morning.”   
  
“Hey, I’m a paramedic! I’m used to odd hours all the time, it’s not  _ my  _ fault most people don’t stay up past 10.” She nudged Blake with her shoulder as they climbed the stairs.   
  
In spite of herself, Blake smiled, rolling her eyes; Yang had teased her often in college about her “early” bedtime, which had usually been around 10 PM. “If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a billion times, ten is a  _ very reasonable _ time to go to bed.” She was rewarded with another peal of Yang’s soft laughter floating out into the hallway. Blake stopped at the door to her guest room. “Well, this is me, so, uh, I guess I’ll probably see you tomorrow?”   
  
Yang blinked at Blake’s door, then refocused on Blake herself. “Oh wow, you’re right next to my room. Uh, yeah, I’ll be around a bunch these next few weeks, it’s why I wanted to take time off, just to keep Ruby sane. You know how she gets.” She gave Blake a faux-exasperated face, rolling her eyes and scoffing.

Blake smiled, shaking her head. “I do know how she gets. Well… Goodnight, Yang.”

“Night, Blake.”

As Blake opened the door and entered her room, she did her best to not steal a last glance at Yang as she did so. However, even after closing her door, Blake could hear her, quiet sounds of her settling in for bed drifting through the wall, faucet running as Yang brushed her teeth, or maybe washed her face.   
  
As she went through her own bedtime routine, and lay down in bed, waiting for sleep, Blake tried, and failed, to not think about Yang.


	6. 24 Days B.W.

_ 24 Days B.W. _

  
  


True to her word, Yang had been around the manor a fair bit in the week after the game night, although Blake managed to limit their interactions to only surface level conversations with either Weiss or Ruby also present. That next morning, after the bachelorette party, she’d waited until she heard conversation from the breakfast table to make an appearance; when she got down to the table Ruby was already there, and her presence seemed to give both Blake and Yang a direction to focus their awkward energy. Instead of defaulting to flirting with one another, conversation curved back towards Ruby and the upcoming wedding. By the time Weiss made it downstairs things were feeling close to normal; the surprisingly intimate honesty Blake had encountered from Yang last night was nowhere to be found, thankfully.

And, after that first morning, Blake managed to  _ continue  _ to avoid Yang; her arrivals at the manor were heralded by her bright yellow motorcycle, as well as her name written on the weekly calendar’s whiteboard in Weiss’ impeccable script. From there, it was a simple matter to hide in her room, or be in the middle of a shower when Yang arrived, or be halfway through doing her laundry when the inevitable invitation came to accompany Yang to lunch, or go on an errand with Yang and Ruby, or something of that nature.

Until, of course, the second appointment for fitting the wedding outfits at  _ Coco’s Corrections _ arrived.    
  
As she stepped out of the car Weiss had insisted she take (“How are you going to keep a garment bag from getting wrinkled if you take the bus? Take a car, I’ve got plenty.”), Blake let out an audible sigh. There, parked neatly in front of the shop, was Yang’s bike.

The appointment Blake was arriving for wasn’t for twenty minutes yet.  _ I guess it was too much to hope the same trick would work twice _ , Blake thought, as she took a deep breath and walked into the shop.

Yang was sitting in one of the chairs next to the counter, and Velvet was sitting in another, pulled over to be directly in front of Yang. Velvet was applying make-up to Yang’s face; this in and of itself wasn’t bothersome to Blake. The blonde woman had always hated doing her own make-up, and Coco had been adamant about both Yang and Blake trying on “the entire ensemble”, and so it made sense that Yang would get someone to do it for her, or that she’d forgotten and Velvet had been shunted into the role of make-up artist.

No, what  _ was _ bothersome, as Blake did her best to keep her face schooled into a passive, vaguely bored mask, was the giggle Velvet had let out in response to (undoubtedly) something Yang had just said. If Blake had been two seconds later, she would’ve missed it. If she’d been three seconds earlier she might have derailed the conversation enough to avoid it. But there Velvet sat, giggling and blushing slight, mere  _ inches _ from Yang’s face.

Yang’s stupid, gorgeous, perfect face. Which had noticed Blake’s entrance, even if Velvet hadn’t. Yang raised a hand in a slow wave, trying her hardest not to move any of her facial features. She managed a barely intelligible “Hi Blake” without moving her lips.

Blake, however, was focused on getting through this appointment as quickly as possible. Within seconds of opening the door, she’d noncommittally greeted Yang, Velvet, and Coco, and had entered the shop’s bathroom, to change and apply make-up of her own.   
  
As she started on her make-up, Blake tried to calm down. It wasn’t like she had any  _ right  _ to feel upset at all. Before this month, she hadn’t spoken with Yang in  _ years _ , by her own choice. What’s  _ more  _ she hadn’t even directly  _ seen _ Yang flirt with Velvet. All she’d heard had been that excited giggle…   
  
Blake nearly stabbed herself in the eye with her mascara brush; she paused her make-up application to take two deep, calming breaths. That giggle was familiar to Blake, despite it being the first time she’d heard it coming from Velvet specifically. That was the giggle that many girls did upon interacting with Yang for more than a single minute. Blake had heard it from classmates, bartenders, waitstaff… It was so  _ obvious _ , almost cloying in it’s sweetness. 

There was a knock on the bathroom door, which then quickly opened, and Coco entered holding Blake’s dress on a hanger. Blake made eye contact with her in the mirror, lipstick held inert near her lips.   
  


Coco quirked an eyebrow at her. Blake responded in kind, and when Coco didn’t respond, asked, “Yes, Coco, did you need something?”

“Oh, just bringing your dress in. You  _ did _ remember to bring your shoes as well, yes?”   
  
Blake jerked with her head towards her bag, sitting on the closed seat of the toilet. Coco nodded, once. She lingered, looking as though she was about to say something, but then appeared to reconsider it, and left Blake to her make-up, closing the door behind her.

As with many things, Blake reflected, as she stripped out of the yoga pants and top she’d worn here, it was Blake herself who was at fault. Even taking only their interactions from this month into account, a move which was  _ absurdly _ generous to Blake, she had been far from the ideal friend to Yang. A truly awful cocktail; one part flirting, two parts ignoring their shared past, and three parts outright avoidance. Shake well, and serve over ice.

She sighed, sitting down on the toilet lid to put her shoes on; they were nice strappy heels, not too tall to walk in, not so strappy she looked like a girl at the club, but enough of both that her calves looked fantastic. She’d asked Weiss if she needed any jewelry, and Weiss had provided a set of gold earrings (“A gift, please, think nothing of it”) that were nicer than any jewelry Blake had ever owned. Her wrists were left bare, as was her neck. Upon looking at the finished product in the mirror, Blake let out a soft gasp. Whereas before the dress had fit her well, now it hugged her body in a way that made her look almost sinfully good. If the dress’ slit was  _ any _ higher, if the neckline dipped  _ any _ lower, she would draw too much attention.

But, as the dress was now, which Blake assumed was very close to how it would be at the wedding, it was  _ just _ restrained enough that she wouldn’t be the focal point of any group she was in. She looked phenomenal, but not like she was trying hard. It was, in short, the perfect bridesmaid look. 

Blake grabbed her bag, collected her make-up accoutrements from around the sink, and left the bathroom.   
  
Yang glanced up from where she was still sitting, slipping her foot into the second of two dark purple wedge heels. Her hands stilled as her eyes trailed across Blake’s body, eventually making their way up to eye contact. At least the blonde woman had the decency to blush slightly at her obvious once-over of Blake’s outfit.

Yang let out a low whistle, and stood from her chair. “Damn Blake, you always did clean up nice.”   
  
Blake, however, was still trying to take in all of Yang’s outfit. The make-up Velvet had applied included some truly fierce eyeliner wings, and the dark eyeshadow made her eyes seem to glow, like amethyst crystal in a ray of sunlight. As Yang shrugged into her jacket, Blake felt her own eyes trail over Yang’s outfit. From the slim pant legs, hugging Yang’s thighs slightly tighter now than ten days ago, up to the golden hoop earrings she was wearing, the woman looked like what a collegiate feminist studies professor wore in your dreams. Like a model who ran away from a fashion show and ended up in a clothing shop in downtown Atlas. Like a sapphic goddess given form. 

Blake had somehow drifted closer to Yang, closed the distance between them until they were only a few feet apart. Both in heels, Yang remained slightly taller than Blake, as she was normally. It was as if Blake could feel heat radiating off of the woman. Blake cleared her throat.   
  
“You don’t clean up so badly yourself.” Blake couldn’t look away from Yang’s eyes; the shop could have been on fire, there could have been a car chase on the street outside, and Blake wouldn’t have noticed. Yang smirked at her response, eyes darkening from the bright lilac towards a darker violet. She was about to say something else, when,   
  
“Alright you two, picture time!”   
  
Both Yang and Blake jumped slightly at Velvet’s words. Blake had forgotten there was anyone else in the shop. But the outside stimulus gave her time to tear her eyes away from Yang’s as she walked toward the front of the shop, where Velvet stood, phone in hand.   
  
_ God, Blake, what are you doing? You haven’t spent more than a continuous fifteen minutes interacting with Yang, pull it together. Just because you had a crush on her in college doesn’t mean you have to lose your mind when you interact with her now. She’s probably not even single, I mean  _ **_look_ ** _ at her _ .

By the time she reached Velvet, Blake had schooled her face into an impassive mask. She smiled, vaguely pleasantly, at the woman. “Where did you want us to stand?”   
  
Velvet shrugged. “I dunno, Weiss just wanted a picture of the two of you all fancy and such, and the light’s best by the front window, so probably just like right there in the chairs?”

Blake sat down, crossing one leg over the other, in the seat closest to the window. She looked out at the street; there was a smoothie place across the way, and some advertisements she could pretend to focus on as well. She heard, rather than saw, Yang sit next to her. She continued to stare out the shop window, imagining she could feel Yang’s eyes settling on her.

Blake had expected to hear Velvet ask her to look at the camera, or Yang to ask if she could put her arm around her, or something. Instead, she heard the artificial shutter noise from Velvet’s phone, snapping three or four pictures. She glanced over at Velvet, who was already gushing about the pictures.   
  
“God, you guys look so good it’s un _ real _ ! These are perfect, I’ll send them to Weiss and I’m sure she’ll love them!” Out of the corner of her eye Blake could see Yang looking over at her; Blake stood quickly, giving Velvet a curt nod. She heard Yang asking Velvet something as she closed the bathroom door, but the sound was muffled, and Blake was focused on leaving the shop. Once again, she had been interacting with Yang, and things had gotten too… Intimate wasn’t the  _ right _ word, but it wasn’t quite wrong, either. 

_ She doesn’t want anything to do with you. You’ve done enough damage to her life as is, just leave her alone _ . 

Quick as she could, Blake removed her dress, hung it back on the hangar, and slipped back into her original outfit. The bathroom, the shop, the whole appointment suddenly felt suffocating; she was allowed to leave, and so she was going to. She opened the bathroom door, making a beeline for the door.   
  
“Blake!”

Yang’s voice stopped her, hand resting on the doorknob. Blake turned; Yang was exiting one of the dressing rooms, pulling a t-shirt down with one hand over the bralette she’d been wearing under the suit jacket; her jeans were back on, but still unbuttoned, and she held her shoes in her other hand. She had obviously been changing in a hurry. Blake cocked an eyebrow at her, and she continued.   
  
“I was, uh, wondering; did you wanna grab like a smoothie? I haven’t eaten lunch yet, and…” Yang reached up and scratched at the back of her neck. “...it’d be nice to just hang out.”   
  
It was as if the shop was shrinking, pressing up against Blake’s body, making it hard to breathe.  _ Yang wants to hang out? God, she must pity you; maybe Weiss told her about your ‘life’ back in Mistral. What would you talk about? _ Blinking quickly, Blake managed a casual (hopefully) head shake in the negative.   
  
“I, uh, I promised my mom I would call her this afternoon, she’s getting off work pretty soon and she’s really busy so I really would love to but I can’t. Maybe a raincheck?” Blake turned and headed out the door, seeing Yang nod in the affirmative in her peripheral as she did so. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

A few hours later, Blake was holed up on the fourth floor of the Atlas city library, desperately reading a book she’d found and trying not to think about Yang. As Blake turned a page, she heard a new sound pierce the quiet of the building; the sharp click of heels on stairs. Glancing over the railing, she could see, only two stories down, the white hair of Weiss as the woman progressed further into the library.

It’s not like there were many places Blake would go besides a library, and the Atlas library was only a few blocks away from  _ Coco’s Corrections _ … Plus, Weiss probably had a tracker or something on her cars, that seemed like a rich person thing to do. It made a certain amount of sense that she’d found Blake here. Closing her book with a small sigh (it hadn’t been that good anyways), Blake sent Weiss a text. If she was here, Blake could at least save her some time.

_ 4:28 PM - fourth floor _

  
  


_ I should’ve texted you earlier, I tried 3 bookstores before coming here. - 4:29 PM _

Blake put her phone away without responding. She brought her knees up to her chest, looking out of the window; on the fourth floor of the library she’d found a comfortable reading nook, complete with some pillows, that looked out over the park that sat next to the library. There were people walking their dogs, some playing frisbee; everyone she saw seemed so carefree.

The sound of Weiss climbing the stairs stopped, meaning she had stepped onto the carpeted fourth floor. After a few moments, she stepped around the corner, and Blake saw tension ease out of her shoulders as the white-haired woman saw her.

Blake looked back out over the park. “I told you I would stay for your wedding, I meant it. I’m sorry if I worried you.” She clenched her jaw.

Weiss came and sat next to her. The smaller woman let out a small sigh. “It’s my fault; I didn’t text or call you, just started worrying when you hadn’t come back from the fitting yet. I… I assume that’s what’s on your mind?”   
  
Blake continued to stare at the park as she nodded.   
  
Weiss leaned over, nudging Blake with her shoulder. “I know this isn’t my usual move, but would you like to talk about it?” As Blake looked back at her, raising an eyebrow in response, Weiss rolled her eyes and continued. “I know, I  _ know _ , it’s Ruby rubbing off on me. She’s quite the positive influence.” She paused, still looking at Blake, taking in how tense the dark-haired woman looked. “So, do you?”   
  
Blake shook her head, eyes not leaving the treetops of the park outside the library. She could see some groups playing frisbee, maybe a family, maybe just a group of friends. Her brow furrowed slightly.

Weiss cleared her throat. “I, uh… I got the pictures of you two from Coco, earlier today. You two look amazing.”

Blake saw Weiss holding her phone out towards her. She grabbed it, and peered down at the photo it was displaying.

She had no reason to be as surprised as she was; she’d been there, after all, she’d seen how good she looked in the mirror, and how amazing Yang looked in  _ person _ . A photo shouldn’t be able to surpass personal experience.

But the picture of Blake and Yang, from only a few hours ago, seemed almost otherworldly. Blake was staring off, past the camera, and her aloof attitude, combined with her bold make-up, made her look almost ethereal. Her back was straight, hands folded neatly in her lap.

In the photo, Yang’s entire attention was focused on Blake. Her body was turned, angled toward her, with one arm along the back of Blake’s chair. Her legs were splayed out, she was closer to kneeling than sitting comfortably; her long legs seemed to point towards Blake like guidelines. And Yang’s face…

Yang was staring at Blake like a believer stared at an angel. The look of pure adoration, of amazement, of  _ worship _ in her eyes was palpable, even through Weiss’ small phone screen.

Wordlessly, she handed Weiss’ phone back to her. Weiss raised her eyebrows at Blake’s long examination and lack of comment. Blake sighed. “Let’s just head back to the manor. It’s almost dinner.”   
  


Weiss stood up, holding her hand out to Blake. “Well, I ubered into town to look for you, so let’s head back to the car and I’ll drive us home?”   
  
Blake raised her eyebrow again as she stood, and handed Weiss her keys. “You? Took an  _ Uber _ ?”

Weiss flushed as she snatched the keys out of Blake’s hand. “Well, a third party drove me, in  _ their _ car, and I paid them; that’s what an Uber is, after all, even if they didn’t work for that specific company.” Blake snorted, and followed Weiss towards the stairs.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

It was a quiet drive back to the manor; after some token attempts to start talking, Weiss had turned the radio on to the classical station, and seemed content to not prod Blake into a conversation she didn’t want to have. But as they pulled into the drive in front of the manor, Blake could feel Weiss’ energy change, and so when the car stopped and the pale woman didn’t immediately exit, Blake waited in the passenger seat. If they were going to have a Conversation _ ™ _ , they might as well do it here.   
  
Weiss shut off the car, and turned in her seat to face Blake. “Blake…”   
  
Blake mentally braced herself; here it came, time to rip open old wounds…   
  
“...I want to hire you to house sit for the month Ruby and I are on our honeymoon.”   
  
Blake furrowed her brow, blinking. This was  _ not _ the conversation she had expected. She managed a very coherent “Uhhh, what?” before Weiss pressed on.   
  
“We’re going on our honeymoon right after the wedding, I’ve got the travel accommodations all booked, from a limo to pick us up from the reception to air travel to hotels, it’s going to be great, but… I would feel better if I knew someone was keeping an eye on the house. This will be the longest time I’ve spent away from it since college, and my father was still living in it then… When I was a child, and we would all go on vacations, the staff would watch the house, but I promoted most of them into official company positions that pay much better instead of menial labor, because who  _ needs _ servants in this day and age… Anyways, I’ve talked with Ruby about it and we wanted to hire you.”   
  
Blake narrowed her eyes. Weiss had talked to Ruby about this, which meant she’d been thinking about it for a while. Eyes flitting down to her hands, gathered in her lap, Blake said softly “Weiss, what are we  _ really _ talking about?” As Weiss started to look confused, Blake continued, “You’re richer than anyone else in this city, you could easily just hire someone to do this. You  _ know _ I have a job back in Mistral, and you know that taking two and a half months off is very different compared to just one. So, I’ll ask again; what are we really talking about?”   
  
It was Weiss’ turn to be silent; Blake could tell the other woman was still looking at her, but the atmosphere inside the car had changed such that Blake couldn’t bring herself to look at those pale blue eyes.   
  
The sound of crickets chirping was audible even through the car doors; in the distance, the sun was almost finished setting behind the Atlas’ city skyline, beams of light shining between the tops of the city’s skyline.

  
Eventually, Weiss spoke. “I told you before that I got your number through a private investigator; that was true. I hired them three years ago, the morning after you called me so… distressed.” Weiss left a pause here, apparently in case Blake wanted to bring up anything about that night; she did not. Weiss spoke again, “After a few days they got back to me with your new phone number, your address, the name of your work, basic details.” Weiss paused again, and even looking down at her own lap Blake could see that the other woman seemed nervous; Weiss’ hands were clasped formally in her lap, and she was sitting straight up in her seat, with perfect posture. Some things never changed.   
  
“I get that keeping people under surveillance isn’t right, and is a gross abuse of my money  _ and _ an invasion of your privacy, but I was truly, deeply worried about you after that night. And so… I asked the investigator to keep an eye on you, and to only update me if things seemed like they were getting bad again.”   
  
Blake scoffed and looked out the window. If she hadn’t roomed with Weiss in college, she wouldn’t be dealing with this revelation as well, but on their first day living together Weiss had brought up Blake’s credit score, which had turned into an argument that revealed Weiss had done a  _ very _ thorough background check on Blake (“We’re going to be living in the same room, I wanted to be sure you weren’t a  _ lunatic! _ ”).

Blake could feel Weiss waiting for a verbal response. “So, what, your PI kept you abreast of all the  _ exciting _ and  _ thrilling _ details of my life?”   
  
Blake heard Weiss sigh, gently. “No, Blake, they agreed to only update me if… if it seemed like you were spiraling. And they never did. So when I reached out to them, to make sure you hadn’t moved again or changed phone numbers, I double-checked. None of it was out of date. But I asked them how you were doing, in general. And they told me; you work at the same job you have for three years, front of house at that cafe. You don’t go to any parties, you don’t talk to anyone outside of work and  _ rarely _ to your family, and you don’t seem to have any friends, and  _ I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life,”  _ Blake had turned towards Weiss now, with some anger in her eyes, but Weiss’ tearful look stopped her from speaking “but I just… Blake you used to be so  _ happy _ . And I get why you felt you had to leave and I  _ get _ feeling like you should punish yourself, but… it’s been four  _ years _ . So… what if you moved here, to Atlas?”   
  
Blake froze. This was  _ definitely _ not the conversation she’d been expecting.   
  
“I said I talked to Ruby, but I  _ swear _ I only told her I was going to ask you to house sit and move back here, I haven’t told her anything about the PI or what they told me… Blake, you deserve to be happy. Or at  _ least _ to have people in your life that care about you. And you have that here.”   
  
Weiss opened her car door, but hesitated before getting out of the vehicle. “I know it’s a gigantic choice to spring on you, and I don’t want to force you to do anything. But I know that moving is hard, and so I’d pay you twice your current salary for the month you’d be housesitting, and you would be welcome to live in the manor until you found a job in Atlas and a place to live.” As Blake started to protest, Weiss held up a hand. “It’s fine Blake, Ruby’s fine with it too, we’ve both… we’ve both loved having you back around. We really missed you.” Yang’s name lingered, unspoken, between them for a moment. “Just… just think about it, ok?”   
  
Weiss stepped out of the car, shut her door and walked towards the entrance to the manor. Blake remained seated in the passenger seat, watching the last rays of light disappear behind the skyscrapers of the horizon.


	7. 14 Days B.W.

_ 14 Days B.W. _

  
  


In the week following Weiss’ suggestion that she move from Mistral to Atlas, Blake didn’t talk to Ruby or Weiss about either moving to Atlas, or house sitting for them on their honeymoon. The errands required for the wedding slowly ramped down (an advantage, finally, of Weiss’ obsession with planning) as the day approached, and so the trio spent much of their time lounging about the manor. But in the quiet moments at breakfast, or when she was reading in the manor library with Weiss, or at dinner during a lull in an otherwise surface level conversation, Blake could feel it; Weiss and Ruby  _ wanted _ to talk about it. One of them, or both, would look over at Blake, and be about to say something, but then sigh, or clench their jaw slightly, and the silence would continue.   
  
Blake was thankful; she  _ still  _ had no idea what to say to the idea, and if it was brought up again she was fearful of a possible anxiety attack. Still, with only ten days until the wedding, Blake realized that she would have to decide one way or the other, and relatively soon. And so, she did the only thing she could think of.   
  
Sitting on her bed, after dinner, Blake bounced her feet softly against the bed frame. Her left hand tapped anxiously on her thigh, while her right held her phone, ringing, to her ear.   
  
“Blake? Are you alright?”

Blake stilled, less anxious now that her mother had answered the phone. “Hi mom, I’m fine. How’re you doing?”   
  
Her mother paused, seeming to choose her words carefully. “I’m doing great; it’s just before dinner-time here, your father is finishing up cooking and I was just wrapping up some paperwork before you called.” Blake heard the muffled sound of her father’s voice in the background, followed by her mom calling out “It’s Blake, honey, she’s fine.” in reply.    
  
“ HI BLAKE ” came the yell from far away from the phone. Her mom chuckled. “Could you hear that?”    
  
Blake laughed, softly. “Yeah, I heard dad. Tell him I say hi back. Sorry if I called at a bad time, I can-”   
  
Her mother cut her off “No no, Blake, you’re fine, Ghira said there’s still 20 or so minutes until dinner is ready, so no rush. And you know I will always make time for you.” Blake hummed in response, and her mom continued. “I am curious though, why did you call?”

And so Blake started talking; told her mom about getting a text from Weiss, out of the blue, how she was currently in Atlas, the plans for the wedding, her bridesmaid dress, and fun things she’d seen in Atlas. And Blake told her mom about Weiss’ idea to have Blake move to Atlas. Yang went unmentioned, a fact her mom chose not to comment on.   
  
“Sweetie, that all sounds like a whirlwind of a time! I always liked Weiss, she took good care of you. And she’s right, you deserve more time off. But you didn’t say; how are  _ you _ feeling about the idea of moving to Atlas? Do you like Mistral?”   
  
And there it was; the thing Blake never talked to her parents about. Whenever they talked, which wasn’t as often as her parents would like, Blake would tell them about tv or movies she’d seen, or books she’d read, or how work was going. But the topic of ‘How do you like living a continent away from everyone you’ve ever known’ never came up, or at least Blake never brought it up, and would steer the conversation away from it when her parents tried to bring it up.   
  
Blake hemmed. “I mean… It’s fine, I dunno.”   
  
Blake heard her mom sigh, then. “Blake, I… I know that what happened four years ago was hard for you; it would have been hard for anyone, and I am  _ so proud _ of how you have recovered and built a life for yourself. I am proud and impressed by how independent you have proven yourself to be. But it's ok to lean on people, Blake. Again, I agree with Weiss; you deserve to be near people who love you. And if that’s not your father and I, why not Weiss and Ruby? Atlas must be at  _ least  _ as safe as where you’re living in Mistral, and it’s about equally as long a flight to us from either way.”   
  
Blake was vaguely surprised; she hadn’t been anticipating her mom being so supportive of the idea to move halfway around the world on a whim. She said as much.   
  
Her mom laughed, then, a real laugh. “Blake, sweetie, you already did that once; why not do it again?”   
  
Blake picked at something on her leggings, a bit of dirt or a stain, she wasn’t sure. “Yeah, I guess…”   
  
“I know that you aren’t good with change, my love, but it isn’t  _ always _ a bad thing. You could find a cafe in Atlas you would like just as much as your one in Mistral, or even find a different job entirely. You know that your father and I support you, and believe in you, and love you. We want what’s best for you, and if what’s best for you is moving to a new city, again, then that’s what you should do.”   
  
Blake was quiet, for a bit, mulling over her mother’s words.

“Thanks mom.”   
  
“Of course, honey. You know I’m always in your corner. Did you want to talk to your father?”   
  
Blake shook her head as she responded. “No, that’s fine, your dinner’s probably ready. Give him my love and a hug.”   
  
“Alright. I love you, Blake. We both do.”   
  
“I love you too, mom.”

“Have a good night.”   
  
“You too.”   
  
Blake clicked off her phone, brow furrowed as she frowned at the floor. Moving to Atlas… It would be a big change, and Blake really,  _ really _ didn’t like change. 

  
  


_ 3 Days B.W. _

  
  


Blake wasn’t excited for the rehearsal dinner. She’d never done well with crowds, or being the center of attention, and while she wasn’t sure how many people would be at the rehearsal dinner, she knew that part of it would be practicing processing into the wedding; as a maid of honor, she would be a major part of that, and at least  _ close _ to the center of attention. Plus, the crowd at the dinner would include Yang (who she had successfully avoided for almost three weeks, despite her visits to the manor)  _ and _ Yang and Ruby’s father, Tai. Blake didn’t specifically remember the last time they talked, but she remembered their last holiday break in college, when he had picked up the girls. He had jokingly asked if Blake “was the one taking such good care of my Yang?”

  
She remembered seeing him arrive at the hospital, afterwards, while Yang had still been unconscious.

So her goal for the night was moderate, nothing outlandish; get through the rehearsal dinner without being involved in any shouting matches. She would worry about the wedding later.

Blake arrived at the venue a half hour early. Either there would be set-up to help with early, or she could wander among the plants and try to relax. That had been her thought, at least. But, pulling into the parking lot, she immediately saw Qrow carrying folding chairs from a trailer into the gardens. What’s more, before she could slump down in the seat and pretend she hadn’t arrived yet, he glanced over at the car, saw Blake, and waved.   
  
Well, it was more of a half-wave gesture, given that he was holding two chairs in each hand, but his lopsided smile and eye contact confirmed it was a greeting, and for her. Suppressing a groan, Blake got out of the car.   
  
“Hey Blake! Perfect timing; we only need those last two chairs from the trailer, can you grab them?”   
  
Blake nodded, a saccharine sweet smile plastered on her face. Nothing exaggerated, so hopefully it didn’t seem fake. Grabbing the last two chairs out of the trailer, and closing the trailer door, she walked around the visitor center and into the garden proper.

On the bright side, from the number of tables set up, it didn’t look like too many people would be at the rehearsal dinner. On the less-bright side, Ruby and Yang’s uncle Qrow  _ was _ here, and, what’s more, no one else had arrived yet. He was currently sitting at a table with two spots still needing chairs, waving Blake over. Blake considered pretending her phone was ringing, or staging a fall and hurting herself, but only briefly. 

“Hey there kid. Thanks for showing up early, I was getting tired of moving chairs by myself.”   
  
Blake set her second chair down, replying as she took a seat. “How’d you get roped into setting all this up, anyways?”   
  
Qrow waved his hand. “I’ve got a friend who does event stuff, he’s loaning me the tables and chairs and such for a song. But drew the line at loaning me event  _ staff _ , which I suppose makes sense.” The older man pulled a flask from his jacket, holding it out to Blake. “You need a drink? Tai’s gonna be here tonight.”   
  
Blake shook her head. “Umm, no thank you.”

He sighed, and took a small sip from the flask. “Suit yourself. But you’re processing in with Yang, keep that in mind.” Blake shot him a sharp look, but Qrow was already looking back at her. He cocked one eyebrow, offering the drink a second time. When Blake didn’t respond, he sighed, and returned the flask to his jacket pocket.

“How’s she been doing?”   
  
Qrow didn’t meet her eyes as he responded, flatly, “Why are you asking me that?”   
  
Blake glanced towards the parking lot; it seemed no one else had arrived yet. Her eyes dropped to her lap, where her hands twisted with anxiety. “No one else will tell me. Ruby and Weiss just say to ask Yang how she’s doing, and I doubt Tai will want to  _ look _ at me, let alone tell me about his daughter.”

Qrow picked at his fingernails for a moment, in silence. Then, “She’s doing better this year. Loving being an EMT.”   
  
“And before this year?”   
  
“How do you think she was doing, Blake? Her best friend disappeared at the same time she lost almost everything she owned and one of her arms. That doesn’t exactly help a person’s mental state.”

It, at least, hadn’t been said with malice; if anything, Qrow had sounded sad when he said it. Which, Blake supposed, made sense. Who wouldn’t be sad that their niece was suffering through trauma?   
  
The two of them sat there, quietly sharing a table, until more people arrived for the rehearsal dinner. Blake was lucky; the next people to arrive were Ruby and Weiss, followed closely by the food delivery for the evening, and so Blake had the opportunity to help the caterers set up the buffet as the rest of the wedding party arrived.

It turned out to be a very small wedding party; besides herself and Yang, only Pyrrha and Nora were the other bridesmaids, and Tai would be walking Ruby down the aisle, while Weiss’ older sister, Winter, would walk with her. Qrow, as it turned out, was here to help set up but also officiate, a fact that Blake realized she’d probably been told by Ruby or Weiss and then forgotten. 

Surprisingly, when she eventually (accidentally) made eye contact with Tai, he gave her a warm smile and a wave. Winter, who Blake had only met once before, shot her a glare as soon as she noticed Blake. To be fair, Winter also looked like she was glaring at Nora, Qrow,Yang  _ and _ Ruby. But at least Blake knew how to react to someone being upset with her; be painfully polite, and don’t initiate any conversations.

The actual rehearsal went fairly quickly; it was to be a relatively short ceremony, and so most of the ‘rehearsal’ was practicing how they would be walking in, and walking out. Fairly simple stuff, if not for the fact that Blake was walking next to Yang. Yang, who had extended her elbow for Blake to grab, in a very gentlewomanly manner. Yang, who had given Blake a warm smile, almost identical to her father’s, upon seeing Blake.   
  
Yang, who had muttered to Blake, as they practiced walking in for the third time, “If you aren’t comfortable holding my arm we don’t have to do it. I just thought it’d look nice.”   
  
Blake almost stumbled at Yang’s honest tone. This was uncertain terrain, new territory to be in. Blake almost,  _ almost _ , resorted to a flirty quip to get them back on track, but…   
  
“...Are you comfortable with it?” If Yang had brought it up, maybe she regretted the initial gesture. Maybe she hadn’t assumed Blake would take her arm so quickly.  _ Maybe  _ she hadn’t actually extended her arm at all, had just been adjusting her posture, and Blake had just grabbed it, and-   
  
Yang chuckled, softly. “I love having a gorgeous woman on my arm. As long as you’re comfortable, I’m comfortable. We’ll look killer in our outfits.” The blonde shot Blake a look out of the corner of her eye. “Or, at least,  _ I _ will. Apparently I look devastatingly good in a suit.”   
  
Blake ‘s face flushed, and she let out an exaggeratedly exasperated sigh. “Keep it together Xiao Long. You’ll forget where you’re standing.”   
  
Yang snorted. “I just stand where you stand, but on the opposite side. The pressure’s all on  _ you _ .” Qrow raised an eyebrow at the blonde woman, which she returned with her usual attitude. “What, Qrow?”   
  
“I was trying to imply that you should  _ shut up _ . This is the  _ rehearsal _ for your sister’s wedding.” Qrow drawled. 

Yang unabashedly rolled her eyes. She was opening her mouth to respond to Qrow when Weiss called out, from back down the aisle, “ _ Yang _ . You promised you’d behave, so  _ behave _ .”   
  
Yang snapped her mouth shut, having the decency to look slightly embarrassed. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Overall, the rehearsal dinner went well; Qrow, surprisingly, kept things moving through the actual rehearsing part, and then it was on to the buffet. Blake grabbed the first plate of food; her rationale was that if she sat at the end of a table, before anyone else had sat down, she wouldn’t end up sitting near anyone who didn’t want to talk to her.

And, it worked pretty well; Qrow sat down across the table from her, which earned him a surprised look. His only response was an eye-roll before he dug into his plate. Weiss ended up sitting directly next to Blake, which she was thankful for; yes, it meant the rest of the wedding party was seated closer than Blake would’ve preferred, but it also meant any conversation was focused on Weiss or on Ruby, right next to her.

Blake focused most of her attention on eating; get through this dinner, and then it was just about surviving the actual wedding, and the stress would ease. Well, hopefully. After calling her mom, and considering Weiss’ offer, Blake had decided to at least stay in Atlas for the month Ruby and Weiss would be on honeymoon. Weiss would be paying her the same money she  _ would _ be getting back at her cafe job in Mistral, and Blake wouldn’t have to do much besides live in the manor and make sure nothing awful happened to it.   
  
Late at night, when Blake was slightly more honest with herself, she would look up reviews of neighborhoods in Atlas, prices of studio apartments, and restaurants around the city that were hiring (there were many).


	8. 20 Minutes B.W.

_20 Minutes B.W._

  
  


“Weiss, _please_ , just tell me what you’re busy thinking about.”   
  
Weiss had been ‘touching up her makeup’ for the past ten minutes, in total silence. This wasn’t all that absurd; it was, after all, her wedding day, and she’d always been a taciturn woman. No, what was ridiculous was that she’d already had her make-up applied by a professional (who had also done her hair, in a fantastic up-do full of braids and curls). But Weiss had taken one look at herself in the mirror, and sent everyone out of her dressing tent (dressing room tent?); Nora had come to grab Blake after five minutes of silence from the tent, with Weiss not responding to anyone’s questions.   
  
Blake _had_ been helping the catering crew set up the tables, just for something to keep busy with. Every moment she _wasn’t_ busy, she would either make eye contact with Winter, Tai, or Yang. Winter, without fail, narrowed her eyes every time she saw Blake, as if Blake’s very presence was offensive to the woman (potentially true, and Blake wasn’t sure she could blame the elder Schnee for the opinion). Tai was wandering around, shepherded by Yang or Qrow into drinking water to calm down; the man looked both halfway to manic and halfway to bursting into tears before the ceremony even started. But each time _he_ saw Blake, he would _smile_ at her. And, what’s worse, it wasn’t even a bitter, cruel smile; it looked almost _sad_ . A few minutes ago he’d started to walk towards Blake, seemingly intent on talking to her (a conversation Blake was _not_ excited to have), but luckily that had been when Nora grabbed her, dragging her to Weiss’ tent.   
  
And Yang. Her stupid incredible suit accenting her stupid phenomenal hair, and her stupid amazing make-up; the first time Blake had accidentally made eye contact with the woman today, she’d lost her train of thought entirely. It wasn’t until she physically bumped into a table she had been going to walk around that Blake remembered she was taking things from the catering truck and moving them to the various tables; she’d almost dropped the basket of silverware she had been holding.

It was going to be a long wedding. And even _longer_ if one of the brides wasn’t willing to leave their dressing tent.   
  
“Weiss, I’m coming in, so I hope you haven’t taken your dress off.” Blake had tried to get Weiss’ attention from outside, but the lack of any response was genuinely growing rather concerning, and so Blake pushed the flap to one side and stepped inside.   
  
Weiss was sitting on a stool, one of a few in the tent, staring into the make-up mirror that had been set up inside. Blessedly, she wasn’t crying, but her eyes didn’t flicker when Blake entered behind her. Sighing softly, Blake brought another stool over to Weiss, sat down on it, and forcibly turned the white-haired woman so they were sitting face to face.   
  
“Alright Weiss, I get it, whatever you’re thinking about is really important, but you _gotta_ let me in on it. People are starting to get worried. Is it Ruby? You want me to go check on her or something?”   
  
Weiss finally reacted when Blake said Ruby’s name, dropping her eyes to her hands, twisting in anxiety, in her lap. “Blake… am I making a mistake?”   
  
Blake reached out, and grabbed Weiss’ hands. “Ok Weiss, you gotta give me more than that. But, gut reaction, _no_ , you are _not_ making a mistake, you are minutes away from marrying the love of your life.”   
  
Weiss let out a frustrated sigh. “But… Blake, we basically started dating my junior year of college, and neither of us have ever really _dated_ someone else! What if we’re just making a huge mistake, and in a year we’re both _miserable,_ and-”   
  
Blake cut Weiss’ rambling off gently by grabbing her arm. “Weiss, relax. Breathe, for a second. Look, do you _want_ to date other people? Do you _feel_ like you’re missing out?” When Weiss shook her head, still looking down, Blake continued. “Do you feel like your feelings about that are going to change, that you’ll wake up one day and be less in love with Ruby than you were the day before?” This earned Blake a glare from the white-haired woman. “See? You’re offended even by the _thought_ of not loving Ruby. You’re _fine_ Weiss, it’s just wedding jitters.”   
  
Weiss didn’t seem convinced. 

“Look, Weiss… What do you dislike most about living with Ruby?”  
  
The response was immediate, given almost without thought. “She eats in bed.” Panicked eyes flew up to meet Blake’s. “Wait, is that _bad_ ? Should I _not_ have a thing I hate about her? What if-”   
  
“ _Weiss_ . No, it’s not bad. I mean, eating in bed is bad, and gross, crumbs must get everywhere.” Weiss murmured a gentle agreement, eyes dropping back down to the floor. Blake squeezed her hands to get eye contact back. “It’s not a bad thing because it means you’re being honest with yourself about how you actually feel. If you couldn’t name something you didn’t like about her, _then_ I’d be worried. You two are ridiculously cute together, and, having spent the past month or so living with you, it’s obvious that you both love each other. And, you’re both committed to communicating openly and honestly about any issues you might have. Remember when Ruby made you stop freaking out over the catering last week?”   
  
Weiss smiled, eyes drifting off to the side, thinking back. “She said that she didn’t care what food we had at the wedding, as long as there was lots of it. That the important part of the wedding was _me_ …”   
  
Blake pulled Weiss into a hug. “Exactly. The girl’s mad for you, Weiss. And you’re the same about her. It’s totally normal to be nervous right now, but I don’t think it’s because you’re actually having second thoughts about marrying Ruby.”   
  
Their hug was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat outside the tent. Blake gave Weiss a last squeeze, and crossed to the tent flap, pushing it aside.   
  
Yang was standing outside. Her mouth tilted into a grin when she saw Blake. “Uh, hi.”   
  
Blake’s mouth suddenly felt dry. “Hi.” Again, Blake was struck by how phenomenal Yang looked in her outfit. From the definition of her calves, visible through her slacks, to the swell of her breasts, lessened but not hidden by her jacket, she looked incredible.   
  
“Ruby was worried about Weiss, so I promised I’d come check that she wasn’t secretly planning on ditching the wedding.” Blake turned back to look at Weiss, who was standing now, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles of her dress as she often did when she was nervous.   
  
“Weiss, it’s Yang; Ruby made her come check on you.” Even as Weiss looked at the ground, Blake could see the fond smile and eye roll Weiss gave in response to that news.   
  
“You can let her in, I’m fine now.”   
  
Blake held the tent flap, and stepped to the side, letting Yang pass her. “How’s Ruby doing?”   
  
As Yang passed by her, entering the tent, Blake was certain she could feel the woman’s body heat. Or maybe it was just the sunshine outside of the tent.   
  
“Oh, Ruby’s great. A huge ball of nerves, but that’s Rubes before any big thing, you know that. She’d basically convinced herself that Weiss was marrying her out of pity before I came to check on her, which led to me now checking on Weiss, but other than that she’s doing fine.”   
  
It was clear, as it always was when Yang talked about Ruby, how much she cared for her younger sister. Her tone had been a mix of teasing and understanding, the classic elder sibling combo that Yang had been using for as long as Blake had known her. Looking up into her lilac eyes, Blake was struck by how good Yang’s new haircut looked on her; the curve of her neck slid down smoothly to sleek collarbones, her hair framing the side of her face in gentle waves. Her jawline looked extra sharp when paired with her shaved hair on the side of her head; it was almost too much to take in. Without thinking, Blake reached up, and rearranged some strands of hair that had fallen out of their appropriate place.   
  
Yang’s eyes seemed to darken to almost a plum-like color, and she took a sharp inhale of breath; she did not, however, recoil back from Blake’s touch, or say anything.

Blake was suddenly aware of how close they were standing, how casually she had just touched the other woman’s face. She flushed, red extending from her ears down to below the neckline of her dress, and stepped back.  
  
“Weiss is, uh, right there, you can- You can check on her. Not that you need my permission, or- I’m going to go check with the caterers, make sure they don’t have any questions.” Without a backwards glance, Blake tore her eyes from Yang’s and strode out of the tent, desperately trying to calm her racing heart. She could feel the blond woman’s gaze on her back as she walked away from the tent.   
  


_60 Minutes A.W. (After Wedding)_

  
  


Weiss being Weiss, and sparing no expense _ever_ , **_especially_ ** for her own wedding, meant that the reception has an inspirationally good open bar.

From micro-brewed IPAs, to imported stouts, to any sort of mixed drink you could imagine under the sun, the three caterers behind the bar were happy to make whatever drink anyone wanted. Blake had seen a Bloody Mary, a Mojito, complete with sugared bamboo sticking out of the top, and she was pretty sure Nora had been drinking a Vegas bomb, something Blake hadn’t seen since her own twenty-first (a shot of Red Bull, dropped into a mix of Crown Royale, peach schnapps, and cranberry juice). After surviving the wedding ceremony, Blake was rewarding herself with a tequila sunrise.

It was the first drink she’d had in a bit over three years. The bitter taste matched her mood.  
  
The service went well, no train-wreck moments or awkward stutters; everything seemed to go off without a hitch, to flow along just like they’d practiced.   
  
Except they _hadn’t_ practiced how long they would be standing up front. Hadn’t practiced how long both sides of the wedding party would be facing in, giving attention to the brides.

Blake hadn’t gotten a chance to practice dealing with how prominent Yang would be in her line of sight. It made perfect sense; she was taller than her younger sister, _and_ was wearing those gorgeous heels. That impeccable make-up that made her eyes shine glitter like stars in the night sky.   
  
Ruby had walked up to Weiss, who was first at the front, after Qrow, and Blake had accidentally glanced up, over her head, to find Yang staring back at her.   
  
The rest of the ceremony had been dominated, at least for Blake, by Yang’s eyes. She had broken eye contact to watch Weiss and Ruby recite their vows, put rings on each other’s hands, and kiss, but for all of Qrow’s talking, for Penny’s reading of some poem, Blake and Yang had been focused on each other.   
  
Blake had expected to see some eyebrow quirk; a hint of reproach that Blake wasn’t focused on the wedding. Or, perhaps, _finally,_ some anger; _this_ was what Blake had come back for, and she wasn’t even giving it her full attention?

Yang had held her gaze with a gentle smile, and a softness in her eyes.

As soon as they had processed back down the aisle, Blake had extricated herself from Yang’s side, blatantly lying and saying the caterers needed her help with something. She’d managed to get through the buffet line quickly, and find a seat next to Qrow, again (the only assigned seats were Ruby and Weiss, at a small table up front). Blake noticed that Yang hadn’t brought a plus one.

After an appropriate amount of time had passed to allow for eating, the toasts had started. Blake had shot out of her seat, intent on going before Yang. While Blake wasn’t worried about the quality of her speech (it was great, with an appropriate ratio of jokes about collegiate-Weiss to heartfelt truths about the woman), she knew Yang’s would be better. Yang, who had grown up alongside Ruby after they both lost their mother. Yang, who had practically _raised_ Ruby, in many ways.

So Blake gave her speech; even now, a scant fifteen minutes after reading it off of index cards she still had in her clutch, she didn’t remember specifics. But people had laughed, Ruby and Weiss had looked appreciative, some people had gotten teary when she came to the emotional heart of the speech; it went well. A solid 8/10.

And then Yang had given her speech.

Blake should have expected it, should have anticipated that, of _course_ , Yang would make a reference to how Ruby had “helped me through some of the darkest times in my life”. Should have expected the crack in Yang’s voice when she mentioned how alone she had felt, the way she had _almost_ imperceptibly clenched her prosthetic hand while she spoke.

And while the reference to four years ago was over quick, and didn’t mention Blake or any of what had happened at _all_ , Blake had suddenly felt impossibly out of place. Like a dream, where you were in class and suddenly realized you weren’t wearing pants, but no one else had noticed yet, leaving you to just panic quietly and try to fix an impossible problem.   
  
Blake sipped her drink, again. It was, of course, incredible. Almost certainly the best and most expensive alcohol Blake had ever drank.

Yang’s speech had finished by the time Blake had left her safe-haven of the restrooms (she had muttered something about food poisoning to Qrow as she had all but fled from her seat, not staying long enough to see if he believed, or even heard, her flimsy excuse), and Tai’s had been winding down. Blake knew the order that had been agreed upon ahead of time had been her, Yang, Winter, and then Tai.

At least she’d brought her make-up in her clutch to the bathroom, and didn’t _blatantly_ look like she’d been sobbing minutes earlier. No, she’d managed to salvage her look into the classic ‘gosh-aren’t-weddings-so-sweet” tears, or at least she hoped she had. Either way, arriving back into ear-shot just in time to hear Tai mention how he never thought his youngest would get married before the fireball that is Yang (to a great laugh from the crowd) had been the final straw.   
  
Her responsibilities were over; why _not_ drink?

Of course, her drink order had been put on pause as everyone turned to watch the couple’s first dance, which was ‘Cheek to Cheek’, sung by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. Weiss and Ruby had gotten into dancing back in college (some dorm-floor event going to a swing dance). They had been truly, nauseatingly, inspirationally cute then, and they had only gotten better during the intervening years.

Blake understood; even in college, before they had actually been together, Weiss and Ruby had turned heads. No matter which one people noticed first, they were quick to notice the change in behavior around the other; while Ruby was always loud and rambunctious, her focus on Weiss was palpable at times. And Weiss, at least back then, had only really smiled when Ruby did or said something ridiculous.

So she had turned, and watched, and smiled along with everyone else there, including the catering staff. She had clapped, and cheered, and, when the song had faded into the next one, and the dance floor began to be populated by more dancers, had turned back to the bar, and repeated her order of a tequila sunrise.

The second time, at least, the bartender had made it for her.   
  
“Still love a Tequila Sunrise, huh?”

It took all of Blake’s willpower to not jump two feet into the air when she heard Yang’s voice from her side. She compromised with her body’s adrenal response, and blinked twice, following that up with a sip from her drink (maybe more of a gulp, but who’s counting). Yang continued, seemingly undaunted by Blake’s silence.

“I wasn’t sure, because you didn’t drink any at the bridal shower, and then you didn’t have any wine at the rehearsal dinner. Which is fine, I just, y’know, was wondering.”

Yang was rambling now; despite not starting this conversation, despite not really wanting to engage, Blake felt somewhat obligated to step in.  
  
“Yeah. It’s, uh… I don’t normally drink, anymore, but I figured, since it _is_ a wedding and all…” Blake let her response trail off. Hopefully they could leave the conversation at that; people drank at weddings. They didn’t need to get into why Blake hadn’t touched alcohol in so long.

“Well, cheers then! Here’s to a wedding well ‘honored’.” As Yang raised her glass, Blake finally turned to look at the other woman; surprise, surprise, she still looked incredible. She had what looked like a whiskey on the rocks, and was holding it out in offering for Blake to bump her glass against.  
  
“We’re the maids of honor, I get it; that’s nothing Yang.” Blake strove to keep a straight face, but as Yang waggled her eyebrows, trying to insinuate that her comment had been, in fact, a joke, Blake couldn’t resist an eyeroll. She clinked her glass against Yang’s. “To Weiss and Ruby.”

It was Yang’s turn to give an exasperated eye roll. “ _Fine_ , to my ridiculous baby sister and the woman who’s way out of her league.”   
  
They both drank. The sun had all but disappeared behind the mountains, the sky changing from it’s brilliant orange to darker shades of blue and purple. The fairy lights strung up around the gardens were starting to be the primary source of light, and as the wind blew softly through the rows of plants, Blake was struck with a mix of scents; the smell of the food at the buffet, the bitter scent of the tequila in her drink, and what was either the plants in the garden, or Yang’s perfume. All together, it smelled like summer.

The song changed, from a more uptempo one Blake didn’t recognize to something that had been popular back in college. Suddenly the silence between Yang and herself felt stiff, stilted, less comfortable than it had felt only moments before. So Blake blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.  
  
“Weiss asked me to house sit while they’re on honeymoon.”

Surprisingly, there wasn’t a sharp inhale of breath from Yang, or a sudden stillness, or any visible reaction, really. If Blake hadn’t been holding eye contact when she said it, she would have assumed the other woman hadn’t heard her. Something clicked in her brain.  
  
“You knew; of _course_ you knew, they probably asked you first, sorry, I-” Blake’s ramble was cut off as Yang’s hand appeared on her bicep, squeezing gently. It was warmer than Blake’s skin, sending goosebumps skittering across her shoulders and back; the touch of it was searing, like nudging up against a radiator in the winter. It was as if the whole of Blake stopped existing, except for that bit of her arm Yang was touching.

“Hey, it’s fine. You don’t…” Yang shook her head, looking puzzled, and trying to meet Blake’s downcast eyes. “You don’t need to apologize for anything. Yeah, she asked me if I’d be ok with it a few weeks ago. I said I would, and I’ll say it again; I’m completely fine with you housesitting for them. I’m still Ruby’s older sister, I know I’m the favorite maid of honor.” Against Blake’s will, this last comment got a small smile out of Blake, and she managed to meet Yang’s eye’s. Part of her brain regretted it, as Yang dropped her hand from Blake’s arm as she did so. Blake did her best to ignore that alcohol-encouraged part of her brain, and listen to Yang’s words as the woman continued.  
  
“So, are you gonna do it?”

Blake tried to drop her eyes back to her drink, or down to the table, or over to the side to the rows of flowers. But Yang had a look in her eyes; two parts genuine curiosity, one part sorrow, and one part… One part fear, perhaps of overstepping her bounds? Blake suddenly realized this was the longest conversation they’d had since the bridal shower, the longest conversation without some form of blatant flirting they’d had in _years_.

She couldn’t move her eyes from Yang’s. The sun had finished setting, the sky now a mix of deep purple and black, stars peeking through the scattered cloud cover. The soft lighting of the garden made Yang’s hair glow; the impulse to reach up and feel how soft the shaved part of Yang’s head _must_ be was almost too tempting to resist. Blake was struck by deja-vu; countless nights of drinking in college had ended up almost this same way. Not at a wedding, but with her and Yang drinking, talking softly, Ruby and Weiss passed out somewhere, and the urge to touch Yang growing stronger by the second.

Blake swallowed, realizing she hadn’t responded yet. Yang gave her a soft smile, one without any hint of her usual gentle mockery or snark.   
  
“I, uh… Yeah, I’m gonna. I actually,” and here Blake _did_ manage to look down into her drink, for better or worse. “I was actually thinking about moving to Atlas. Weiss pitched the house sitting as a good time to look for a new job and a new place to live, and… I don’t have- I mean I have a _job_ in Mistral, but it’s just- it’s not like a _job_ job, not like a career...” 

Blake forced herself to stop talking by taking another gulp of her drink. Maybe eating more at dinner would’ve been a good plan, if she was going to be drinking. Or maybe this was just what being around Yang was like, and she had forgotten; this feeling of weightlessness, of lightness, of _freedom_ , was almost too much to bear.

As she glanced back up at Yang (only a fleeting glance; anything longer and she might get trapped, again, pulled into the gravitational well of those lilac eyes), Blake was met with the same gentle, kind smile. The same warm look in Yang’s eyes. “That’s- that’d be a big move, for you. But that’s great, Blake.” Blake tried not to luxuriate in how her name sounded coming out of Yang’s mouth, tried not to focus on the way the golden-haired woman’s tongue curled around the “k” sound at the end. “We’ve- I know Ruby and Weiss would love to have you back in their life. I would too.”  
  
Unspoken, between them, was the conversation they still hadn’t had. The reason Blake _hadn’t_ been in their lives. But here, with music and laughter and conversation in the background, with the smell of flowers on the air, with the calm safety nighttime brings to deep conversations, it felt ok to leave it unsaid, at least for now.   
  
Yang downed the rest of her drink, somewhat suddenly. The view of Yang’s throat led Blake’s eyes down to the curve of her neck where it met her shoulders, down to her collarbones, and the swell of her breasts; Blake barely managed to tear her eyes away by the time Yang set her glass down.   
  
“Come dance with me.”   
  
It was a surprising thing to hear Yang say. Or, maybe it wasn’t; how many times had they gone out to clubs, dancing with each other until it was too late to do anything but stagger home, leaning on one another? This would be tamer dancing, almost certainly, but-   
  
“C’mon, Blake. Dance with me. It’ll be fun.”

Blake was, again, struck with deja vu, this time of a single memory. Their first time out at a club, some awful hole-in-the-wall with music blaring too loudly and not enough room on the dance floor. Blake could see Yang, in her mind, standing in torn skinny jeans and a scandalously tight tank-top, long hair cascading over her shoulders, one arm outstretched to Blake, as she’d said the exact same thing.  
  
The memory of Yang was replaced in Blake’s eyes with the reality now, hair shorter, eyes softer, less challenging than that night. But her arm was still outstretched, and there was still a hint of a challenge in her eyes. In her memory, and here, at the wedding, Yang quirked an eyebrow.

Blake tipped her drink back, swallowing what was left, and then set it next to Yang’s empty glass. She reached out, and took Yang’s hand in her’s, letting the taller woman lead her to the dance floor. As they walked, the song changed. After Ruby and Weiss’ opening dance, the vibe had shifted towards more usual wedding standards, pop songs that were easy enough to dance to, with some slow numbers mixed in for people who just wanted to sway on the spot.  
  
Apparently, that had been a compromise on either Ruby or Weiss’ part; now, after only a few of what could be deemed more ‘accessible’ songs, the vibe had shifted back into classic swing tunes.   
  
“Your sister is _such_ a nerd.” Blake said, past dry lips, as she was led onto the dance floor. She’d suddenly realized just how much she’d had to drink, how long it had been since she had danced… How long it had been since she had been so close to Yang.

Yang chuckled as she pulled Blake close and started stepping them side to side in time to the music. Blake was surprised by how warm, how gentle Yang’s prosthesis felt on her shoulder blade. It was, at least, an upbeat song, and so she could focus on what her feet were doing instead of how warm her entire body suddenly felt, or the fluttery feeling of butterflies in her stomach.  
  
“C’’mon, you can’t _really_ be implying Weiss let Ruby be involved in creative choices for the music playlist.” Yang graced Blake with her crooked signature grin as she spun the darker-haired woman out for a twirl, and the back into her arms. Blake managed a soft smirk back in response. This was familiar territory, making casual conversation seemed safer than talking about _life_ things, like moving, or plans for the future.   
  
Safer, but not necessarily easier, Blake reflected, as her stomach swooped with her shoulders as Yang dipped her, only to pull her back up into an easy-to-follow but complex-looking series of twirls they both did while keeping their hands connected.

“Oh, I didn’t mean the playlist. I meant the way your sister got into swing dancing _after_ that awful swing revival. She couldn’t even get into it when it was considered ‘cool’ again. It’s her fault Weiss likes any of this music and you know it. Hell, it’s her fault either of us even _know_ how to swing dance.”

Yang blessed Blake with a genuine laugh, then. Not loud enough to be disruptive, but loud enough that some other couples dancing glanced over in their direction. Blake couldn’t say specifically who; Yang had pinned her with a look, deep purple eyes glittering with more laughter being held in.

“Ruby may have _started_ us down this dancing road, but I seem to recall _many_ times when a different dark-haired member of our squad pushed the group out the door towards dancing.”

Blake felt her cheeks flush. It didn’t help that the song ended at the same moment, leaving her bent down in a low dip, gazing up at Yang’s smug-looking face. Her wavy hair had fallen slightly in front of her left eye, and it took more willpower than Blake would’ve guessed she _had_ to not reach up and tuck it behind Yang’s ear.

“I’m sure I have _no_ idea who you’re talking about.” Blake managed, in a faux-pretentious voice. Yang’s smirk grew wider, into a full-fledged grin. Yang pulled her up out of the dip, and the song faded out as Blake, for some reason, kept talking. “Whoever she is, she sounds like she was a great friend.”   
  
She’d meant to say it in the same teasing manner they’d been talking; any friend who’d drag you out dancing was a great friend, something in that vein. Something that would be followed up with an eye-roll and more gentle teasing from Yang.   
  
It wasn’t until Blake saw the melancholy look in Yang’s eyes that she even realized how tone-deaf what she’d said was. She felt the color drain from her face. “I- I’m sorry-” She started to pull her hands from Yang’s, meant to turn away, to walk off the dance floor.

Yang’s grip on her hands only tightened, her mouth curving into a soft smile. “C’mon, Blake. One more dance. You _love_ this song.”   
  
The soft crooning lyrics floated out from the speakers, and Blake realized that she did; it was Ella Fitzgerald singing ‘They Can’t Take That Away From Me’. Who _didn’t_ love this song? She ducked her head, feelings conflicted. “Yang, I-”   
  
“Just one more. For me.”

Yang gave her hands a soft squeeze, in reassurance. Keeping her eyes down and to the side, Blake stepped closer, and the two began to shuffle back and forth as the song flowed out over the gardens and the crowd of dancers.

It was a slower song, and had increased how many dancers felt comfortable coming to the floor; the room they had to dance in had markedly decreased.

“She was.”

Blake almost tripped over her own feet when Yang spoke, softly. But strong arms were there to stabilize her, a soft but insistent grip moved her back into the beat of the song.

Against her better judgement, Blake gave up resisting the urge she’d been pulling away from since starting to dance with Yang; she closed the small remaining distance between them and leaned her head against Yang’s shoulder, the two of them continuing to sway back and forth.

If she closed her eyes to hide the tears welling up in her eyes, if she inhaled deeply to breathe in the scent of Yang, so recognizable even after all these years, well… No one was close enough to see.

The song ended, and Yang chose a slower, less exaggerated dip to end their dance. As they pulled away, Blake still looking down, Yang reached up and cupped her chin, gently. With her other hand, she reached out and wiped a single tear which had begun to track it’s way down Blake’s cheek.  
  
“No crying at the wedding reception, c’mon Blake… This is the party bit.”

Blake let out a laugh that was closer than she’d like to admit to a sob. It was all just a bit much; two months ago she’d never thought she would _ever_ see Yang again, and here they were, seemingly just as close as they had been years ago.   
  
Yang peered into her eyes, twin pools of violet looking into her soul. Having seemingly found what she was looking for, Yang furrowed her brow, and pulled away.

“Alright Blake, let’s go get you some water.” Yang said it like it was the simplest thing in the world, like taking care of Blake was a habit she had never grown out of, would never grow out of. As Blake was pulled towards the drink station, she was, again, struck by how similar this was to how things were in college. The thought, at least, gave her a familiar role to fall into.  
  
“What if I don’t want any water?” Blake said it without a hint of the emotions she was feeling inside, and when Yang glanced back at her, the exaggerated pout on Blake’s face managed to bring out a rueful chuckle.

“We can discuss it, but you _should_ drink some water.”   
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They landed on a compromise; Blake had fully leaned into the version of herself she hadn’t played in years, telling Yang she wanted to do shots. Yang had made an executive decision; they wouldn’t do shots, and Blake would still drink some water, but she dropped Blake off at a table with her glass and went back to the bar for two ciders.  
  
Blake didn’t argue that much; but, when she sat down at the table, and the lights of the gardens kept spinning like they had when they were dancing, she realized Yang might be in the right.

The rest of the evening was spent, by the two of them, at that table, watching the dance floor, with Yang keeping up a fairly constant commentary talking about whoever was in their line of sight. Blake learned that Jaune and Pyrrha had only officially started dating six months ago, despite the fact that they’d been making heart eyes at each other all through college (and the intervening time since), that Nora and Ren hadn’t had any breaks in their relationship, but still weren’t engaged (Blake asked, and Yang had shrugged, saying something about “not everyone wants marriage I guess?”), and that Ren worked as a paramedic alongside Yang.

At some point, Ruby and Weiss had stopped by their table, as they made their rounds to thank every guest for coming. Blake had stood, giving them both hugs, and waving off their thanks. Weiss had grabbed her hand, and gently pulled her off to the side, as Ruby and Yang hugged.

“You’re drinking?”

Weiss asked it without any judgement, but the worry was clear in her eyes; Blake’s stomach twisted in a way that wasn’t related to her alcohol consumption, or to how close Yang was, for once.

“Yeah, I- It’s fine, I’m not…” Over Weiss’ shoulder, Yang caught her eye. She was in a conversation of her own with Ruby, but was watching Weiss and Blake. Upon making eye contact, she raised her eyebrows, a wordless check-in on Blake. Blake gave her a small grin. “It’s not like three years ago. Yang’s taking care of me, don’t worry.”  
  
As she moved her focus back to Weiss, Blake saw the worried look transform into a soft smile. But the shorter woman only pulled Blake into a hug, saying “It’s my wedding, and I’m impossibly busy hugging everyone, but we’ll talk about all this later, ok? I’ll text you.”

Blake scoffed, pulling away from the hug to meet Weiss’ eyes. “You’ll be too busy consummating your marriage on your honeymoon to text me and we both know it.” It had the effect Blake had been aiming for; Weiss’ face blushed almost as red as the flower in Ruby’s hair, and then Ruby was there giving Blake a hug, and Weiss was pulled away into a hug with Yang.

“I’m glad you agreed to house sit for us, Blake.”

Blake laughed into Ruby’s hair. “I mean, with the rates Weiss is paying, I’d be a fool _not_ to.” As Ruby’s hug tightened, Blake gave a small sigh, grinning. “I’m glad I’m house sitting too, Rubes. I think… I think I’ll probably end up moving here, but I’m sure Weiss already told you that.”   
  
The grin on Ruby’s face as she pulled away from their hug confirmed Blake’s guess, and for a moment they just stood, grinning at each other. Then, like a comet falling victim to a star’s gravitational pull, Ruby dove in for another hug, pulling another laugh out of Blake’s lungs.

The happy couple was quickly pulled away into another photo with a group, their circle around the dance floor continuing through all the guests. Blake and Yang settled back into their chairs, and their surface level conversation continued.  
  
Through the dim haze of the alcohol, it was easy for Blake to ignore their past.


	9. 9 Days A.W. (After Wedding)

_ 9 Days A.W. _

  
  


Blake was doing her best to relax. It was harder than it looked, even in a house as luxurious as Schnee Manor; sure, every piece of furniture was at least a seven out of ten on comfort, and  _ sure _ , all the carpet was soft and cushy.  _ Yes _ , the hot water heater seemed to hold an indefinite amount of hot water, and  _ yes _ , the library  _ did _ have west-facing windows so you could watch the sunset over the city skyline while reading a book in one of the many oversized armchairs.

But, finally, Blake had decided to utilize Weiss’ oversized TV and watch something trashy on Netflix. She’d already poured herself a glass of wine, and was in the beginnings of making fajitas, onions sizzling away in butter on the stove.

The only issue was that, of course, the Schnee-Rose entertainment center (Blake had actually asked Weiss about the last name plan, and she had said neither of them were planning on changing their names; they were both modern women, after all. She had also asked Ruby, who had revealed she was planning on telling Weiss she wanted to change her last name to Schnee while on the honeymoon) seemed to have at least four completely independent remotes, only two of which had brand names on them at all. So far, three of them turned the tv itself on and off, all of them seemed to interact with the speakers in some way, and even with the tv on Blake hadn’t found any way to successfully change channels, OR navigate to Netflix.

Yes, she did have Weiss’ cell number.  _ And _ Ruby’s number, both in her phone and written on an ‘emergency numbers’ sheet stuck with a magnet onto the fridge (also on the list were Yang’s, Nora’s, Weiss’ lawyer, and the local fire, police, and emergency medical service departments). But Weiss and Ruby were both on their honeymoon,  _ and _ in a time zone that meant it was early,  _ early _ in the morning for them. Interrupting them for help with the tv was out of the question.

And so, with a heavy sigh, Blake dialed Yang’s number.

As the call rang, she took a sip of her wine. Weiss had actually called her the day after the wedding to talk briefly about Blake drinking again, and then to offer her free use of any of the alcohol in the Manor, after Blake had assured her she would imbibe responsibly.

Three years ago, on the first anniversary of Adam breaking into their apartment, attacking Yang, and burning the place down, Blake had called Weiss. She had already moved to Mistral, cut all contact, and changed her phone number. The last had been, ostensibly so that Adam’s friends, if he had any left after being arrested, wouldn’t be able to track her down. But Blake would be lying if she didn’t admit that she was also trying to cut contact with the lives she had ruined.

On the year anniversary, in a moment of weakness, she called Weiss, drunk, from the roof of her apartment building. Tearfully, and with no small amount of slurred speech, she had asked Weiss how Yang and Ruby were doing, if they were ok.   
  
Weiss, to her credit, had handled the call extremely well. She had assuaged Blake’s fears that their lives had been ruined, talking about classes Ruby was taking, and how Yang was attending physical therapy. Overall, the drunken midnight call had actually gone fairly well, at least up until the point Weiss had asked why the wind was so loud on Blake’s end of the call.

Drunk and crying, Blake had said she liked to look down at the parking lot from the roof and imagine jumping. The conversation had veered sharply towards how Blake was doing; Weiss had first sternly told Blake that she was loved by  _ many _ people, and to please go back inside so they could continue their conversation without her being worried about Blake’s immediate well-being. After Blake had done so, they had stayed on the phone until three AM Blake’s time, talking about self-worth issues, Blake’s feelings of guilt regarding the entire ‘Adam Incident’ and, most pertinent, her alcohol use. Blake had revealed that her main source of caloric intake had been alcohol for a few months, a fact that Weiss, understandably, took issue with.

The call had eventually ended with Blake promising to stop drinking, and to call Weiss if she ever felt suicidal ideation rearing its head again. The next day, blindingly hung over, Blake had changed her phone number again. She had, however, quit drinking.

“This is Yang.”   
  
Blake swirled her wine in her glass, staring into it. “Hey, Yang, it’s-”   
  
“PSYCH! I can’t come to the phone right now, leave a message!”

Blake groaned, rolling her eyes up towards the ceiling, as a beep sounded in her ear.

“Ugh, hi Yang, nice voicemail message,  _ thanks  _ for that. Anyways, I was just calling because, umm, well, Weiss gave me your phone number before-”

Before she could get any further in her message, Blake was interrupted as the fire alarm sounded. Jolting off the couch, scattering remotes onto the floor, Blake barely managed to not spill her wine onto the carpet. “-FUCK, sorry, I’ll call you back,  _ shit _ .” Blake hung up her phone, tossing it onto the couch and hurrying back into the kitchen, where her onions had burnt to a nice ashy black, smoke billowing up to fill the kitchen.

All in all, it only took around fifteen minutes for Blake to get things back under control. Only two of those had been actual panic, with her frantically turning off the stove, and rushing to open a window. Then about five more of waving a dish towel to blow any excess smoke out of the window, and finally the smoke alarm had stopped sounding. 

Finally allowing herself to exhale, Blake had then proceeded to start washing the pan full of what had been her onions. Sink running, sponge scrubbing away, and running commentary on what a shit cook she was under her breath, Blake failed to hear the front door, or kitchen door, open.

“Blake?”

For the second time in twenty minutes, Blake jerked suddenly in surprise. This time, she  _ did _ drop what she was holding; the pan clattered loudly in the sink as she turned to see who else was in the house.

Yang was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, bomber jacket on and phone in hand. She glanced between Blake and the pan. “I mean, you always were a bad cook, but this is a bit much, even for you.”

Blake flung her hands in Yang’s direction, water droplets flying half of the distance between them in a weak attempt at punishing Yang for her taunting, face flushing red with embarrassment. “God, I didn’t- Obviously I  _ did _ burn them, but not because I’m a  _ bad cook _ , fuck off.” Blake slumped back against the counter, strands of hair that had escaped her hasty bun falling around her face.

Yang leaned against the doorframe, grin entering full shit-eating territory. “So you called because you were watching your food burn and weren’t sure what to do? I don’t just cook for any girl who calls me, y’know.”

Blake felt her blush worsening, spreading down her neck. “I wasn’t calling you for  _ cooking _ help…” Remembering what she  _ had _ been calling Yang for help with did nothing to lessen her embarrassment. “I was- Ugh, it’s  _ so _ stupid. I was  _ trying _ to figure out Weiss’ tv to watch something while I ate but she’s got like a  _ billion _ remotes and it wasn’t supposed to take longer than a few minutes to get netflix pulled up, but then…” Blake gestured at the pan in the sink, and the tortillas and chicken she had removed from the fridge for her fajitas. “...It all kind of got out of hand.”

Yang glanced at the clock, then back to Blake, brows furrowed. “Ok, so you called like sixteen minutes ago. Now  _ I _ worked a twelve hour shift today; what’s  _ your _ excuse for not having had dinner by 9:20?”

The burning in Blake’s cheeks only intensified. “I was just… trying to decide what to cook?” Yang’s solitary raised eyebrow suggested this answer wasn’t particularly believable. “Ok, I lost track of time because I was  _ reading _ , happy?”

Yang chuckled, softly, and shook her head. “The more things change… Look, finish up with that pan, I’ll order you a pizza, and then walk you through how to deal with all the remotes.” As Blake started to protest, Yang held up a hand, waving off any arguments. “It’s fine! This place is cheap, it’ll get here in like 15 minutes, tops. It’s a Tuesday night, they won’t be busy.” Without another word, Yang shrugged out of her jacket, pulled out her phone, and flopped down into a chair at the kitchen table, clearly placing the order immediately. With no other recourse, Blake turned back to the singed remains of onion still stuck to the pan.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The pizza arrived just as Yang was finishing her second explanation of the remotes; Blake  _ thought _ she’d got it the first time around, but wanted to be certain. Before she could even think about standing and answering the door, Yang was off the couch and out the door. Moments later she returned, holding a box from  _ Polendina’s Pies _ . The smell of melted cheese was truly heavenly, and Blake was suddenly  _ very _ aware of how long it had been since lunch.

Yang set the pizza box down on the coffee table, being careful not to knock over Blake’s wine glass. “I, uh, I didn’t… I wasn’t…” She paused, frowning slightly, and gnawing at her lower lip. When she spoke again, her words seemed carefully chosen. “You used to really like it, but I wasn’t sure if you still would, so I got you a half anchovy, half cheese pizza.”

Blake fought to keep the surprise she felt off of her face, settling on showing a warm grin in response to Yang remembering her favorite pizza topping. “That sounds great; I haven’t stopped liking anchovies, don’t worry.” She sat on the couch, grabbing a piece out of the box with one hand, the other hesitating slightly before choosing the correct remote to navigate Netflix’s menu. Blake glanced over her shoulder. “What did you- oh.”

Yang was in the doorway, halfway through zipping up her bomber jacket, looking back at Blake.

“Were you not- I thought you said you hadn’t eaten either, were you- did you have plans?”

There was a moment of stillness, only broken by Yang’s slow tilting of her head, slightly to her left. She was also the one who broke the silence.

“...Did you  _ want _ me to eat with you? I didn’t want to impose, you only called about a tech thing, originally...”   
  
Blake answered before her brain could proofread her response. “Of course I want you to stay.” Yang’s eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, but she slipped back out of her jacket, and took the seat beside Blake, snatching the remote as she did so.   
  
“If I’m staying, I get to decide what we’re watching.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Blake had  _ technically _ been watching the entire movie, but she wasn’t sure if she could offer any insight into its plot; something about ghosts? Blake hadn’t been focusing on it since about a half hour in; there had been a truly frightening jump scare, and while Blake  _ hadn’t _ screamed, she  _ had _ jolted, violently, in her seat. Yang had already been sitting on the couch with her arm along the back; however it had happened, Blake had ended up sitting closer to Yang. Yang’s arm wasn’t  _ around _ her, and they weren’t  _ cuddling _ by any means, but…

But Blake felt like she could feel the heat radiating off of Yang’s body; maybe that was her imagination. What  _ wasn’t _ imagined was the citrus-y scent she could smell coming from Yang, a result of either her shampoo, or perhaps her body wash. What had happened once, and had Blake imagining it happening again, was Yang getting distracted and playing with her hair; she’d only done it for about thirty seconds before going suddenly still, and letting Blake’s hair trail out of her fingers, hand returning to the back of the couch.

For those thirty seconds Blake had focused all of her willpower on keeping her breathing even, and not reacting to the full-body goosebumps she was getting, or to the dryness she felt in her throat.

It seemed like the movie was finally ending; Blake hadn’t been following the plot, but the scene was in daylight, for the first time almost all movie, and the soundtrack sounded happier. Her assumptions proved correct, as the credits began to roll soon after. She tried not to let out a sigh of regret as Yang removed her arm from the back of the couch, and stood up.

“Man, what a flick, huh?” Yang seemed to not have noticed how little attention Blake had been paying to the movie; Blake made a noncommittal but affirmative sound as she stood. She realized she didn’t want Yang to leave yet.   
  
“So how’s it feel, having a little sister who’s married?” Blake said the first thing that came to mind, and it seemed to work; Yang paused, holding her jacket, and leaned against the chair it had been flung onto at the beginning of the movie.

“It’s… I mean, the weirdest thing right  _ now _ is that she’s off on a honeymoon; the last time we spent this much time apart was my first two years of college, while she was still in high school.” A small grin appeared on Yang’s face. “But no, it’s like… It’s pretty normal I guess? Even before they were  _ together _ Ruby and Weiss were  _ basically _ together, so that’s not that different… I dunno.”

Blake stepped towards Yang. “...You think you’ll ever get married?”   
  
The credits music played, softly, on the tv, as Blake and Yang held eye contact. Blake thought she saw Yang’s eyes dip briefly down to her own lips, but they were back in full lilac force so quickly it may have just been a blink, or her imagination playing tricks on her.

“I’ve…” Yang paused, to swallow. “I’ve always figured I’d get married someday, yeah. Find someone and settle down.” It was her turn to take a step towards Blake.

Blake could hear her heart pounding in her ears. “So you aren’t- You didn’t bring anyone to the wedding, but I wasn’t sure if maybe they were just busy, or…”

Yang let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head slightly. “Nope, it’s, uh… It’s just me, for now. Not a ton of time when you’re training to be a full-fledged emergency responder.” Blake  _ definitely _ didn’t imagine seeing Yang’s eyes flit down to her own lips this time, didn’t imagine Yang’s pupils growing when Blake’s tongue darted out to wet them.

The kiss lasted only an instant, a fleeting moment. Blake had closed the remaining distance between them quickly, leaning forward from where she had already been standing to press her lips against Yang’s. As quickly as it happened, Blake was already pulling away, blood rushing to her face, eyes wide. “Oh my  _ god _ Yang I’m  _ so sorry, _ I-”

But whatever she had been saying was cut off when Yang pushed back into her space, crashing their lips back together. Her hands reached out, pulling Blakes body closer to her; Blake’s response was to let out a soft whine into Yang’s mouth.

“Tell me-” Yang said “-to stop-” between kisses “-and I will.” She tasted like strawberries and fresh rain, a part of Blake’s brain thought. In response to Yang’s comment, Blake lifted her hands to Yang’s hair, carding through it’s length on one side and scratching semi-roughly on the other.

Yang let out a low moan, and moved her mouth to Blake’s neck. “Why would I want you to st _ aahhhhh  _ **_Yang_ ** ” Blake had been trying for a snarky, flirtatious response, but her ability to form coherent words had left her as Yang’s mouth passed over her pulse point, and what had been teeth grazing turned into a rougher bite. She felt the pressure of Yang’s mouth intensify as she had breathed out the other woman’s name, felt a heat stirring in her core.

Yang pulled back for a moment, the magenta color of her eyes almost entirely obscured by her blown-out pupils, a cocky grin on her face. “Is that a ‘please don’t stop’? I don’t know if you’ve heard, Blake, but consent is sexy.”

Blake leaned forward until her mouth was inches away from Yang’s ear. “Then this is me  _ explicitly _ ,” Blake wrapped her right leg around Yang’s left, “giving you my consent.” She punctuated the sentence by biting onto Yang’s earlobe and pulling, gently.

Yang’s response was to grab Blake’s right leg in her hand, followed quickly by the other, lifting Blake off of the ground. Blake felt her back get pressed against the wall; a part of her brain let her know that the rattling sound she’d just heard was probably the side table, that maybe something had fallen off of it. That didn’t seem too important at the moment, however.

It could have been five minutes, or a week, or even an entire month later, but eventually Yang pulled away from Blake, caressing the side of her face. Blake had enough presence of mind to be vaguely embarrassed by how much she pressed into that hand, but not enough to even entertain the idea of not doing it. At some point they’d moved to a horizontal position, on the couch. Yang sat up, and spoke in a raspy voice, “I, uh…  _ God _ , you have no idea how much I hate to say this, but I gotta go. It’s getting late, and I work tomorrow.”

Blake turned her head, pressing a kiss into Yang’s palm as she stood from the couch. Before she could respond verbally, Yang continued, walking to the chair where her jacket had been tossed.

“I’m on for the next few days, but… Would you wanna come over and have dinner, on Saturday?”

It wasn’t often you saw Yang at anything less than one hundred percent confidence. She would be louder at times, yes, or get angry or laugh at something, but almost everything she did, she did with an air of fearlessness. The Yang who was talking to Blake now was scratching the back of her neck, weight shifting slowly between one leg and the other, head tilted as she regarded Blake, still lounging on the couch.

Blake couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Yang so tentative. It wasn’t a word she usually associated with the blonde-haired woman.

Standing from the couch, Blake crossed to where Yang stood. She leaned forward, and pressed a gentle kiss to Yang’s lips. There was no heat behind this one, no urgent prelude to further actions. Pulling back, Blake couldn’t help but feel satisfied at the crooked grin that had appeared on Yang’s face.

“I’d love that.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In a rare turn of events, Blake woke up after the sun rose the next day.

Her usual routine was waking up at around six AM, no matter when she went to sleep. This was usually paired with the fact that she slept rather poorly, tossing and turning, either not remembering her dreams or waking up violently from nightmares and struggling to fall back asleep.

The night after kissing Yang, however, she slept like a rock. Yes, it had taken some time to calm down enough to even  _ attempt _ to sleep after Yang left, but she’d fallen asleep fairly quickly, and while she still didn’t remember her dreams for that night, she’d woken up feeling refreshed and rested.    
  
She’d also felt confused; firstly, because sunlight was streaming in through her window, and secondly because her phone was ringing on the bedside table next to her.

Still slightly bleary, she reached over to grab her phone, and answered without looking at the screen. “Blake.”

_ “Did I wake you? I thought for certain you’d be up by now.” _ Weiss’ voice drifted into Blake’s ears. She glanced at the clock on the bedside; it read 10:17.   
  
“No, I’m, uh, I’m awake. Hi, what’s up?” Blake stifled a yawn as she sat up in bed, stretching her body while holding her phone to her ear.   
  
_ “Don’t worry, everything’s fine, I just… Well, truth be told, I  _ **_wanted_ ** _ to call and talk to you like the day after the wedding, but Ruby convinced me to wait and that you would be fine.” _

Blake let out a snort as she stood, and walked towards the bathroom. “Yeah, plus I’m sure you two were busy  _ doin’ _ it.” She waited for some embarrassed stammering, or faux-offended response, but was greeted only by silence. “Ugh, I know that you  _ were, _ but like, you’re supposed to deny it Weiss…”

Blake heard a wry chuckle through the phone. “ _ Well, it  _ **_is_ ** _ our honeymoon, seems silly to deny it right now. Anyways, this  _ **_isn’t_ ** _ actually what I wanted to talk to you about. First things first, how’s the house? You set anything on fire?” _

Blake leaned towards the bathroom mirror, examining her neck; Yang had really done a number on her, leaving at least three marks that would be visible unless she wore a turtleneck, and two more that would be visible in a moderately low-cut tank-top. “No, Weiss, I haven’t set anything on fire. The house is  _ fine _ , everything’s amazing, I’m loving the library, it gets spooky quiet at night but it  _ is  _ a gigantic manor so I suppose that’s to be expected.”

Faintly, in the background, Weiss heard Ruby’s voice. “ _ Wait, did she just say the manor is spooky? Weiss I  _ **_told_ ** _ you, it is! Also tell her I say hi!” _

Weiss let out a sigh into the phone.  _ “I assume you heard that?” _ Blake gave an affirmative sound, and Weiss continued.  _ “I still don’t see how the Manor is creepy, but Ruby agrees with you. And I’m glad that nothing’s gone wrong.” _ Blake heard the sound of Weiss walking, and what seemed to be a sliding door; no doubt she was moving onto their room’s balcony, which undoubtedly had a phenomenal view of some mountainscape or some such.  _ “I wanted to check in with you about the drinking again. Are you  _ **_sure_ ** _ you’re doing ok?” _

Blake took a deep breath, walking back into her bedroom and sitting on the bed, one leg crossed under the other. She’d been expecting this conversation. “I’m doing just fine, actually. Your wedding was the first place I’ve had alcohol in three years, and I’ve had  _ maybe _ an entire bottle of wine in the week or so since, over the course of multiple dinners.” She looked down at the bedspread, picking gently at some embroidered flowers. “Thanks for checking in Weiss, really, but I’m ok.  _ Yes _ , I drank at your wedding to help deal with some… stressful emotions, but it  _ did _ help, and the wine has been nice to relax with.”

_ “And you know that if things ever get bad again, you can call me, any time, right?” _

Blake’s eyes stayed on the comforter. “Yes, Weiss.”

There was a moment of silence on the line. Then,  _ “I love you, Blake. So does Ruby.” _

Blake chuckled at that. “I know, Weiss. Really, I’m  _ fine _ . I mean it. So can we move onto something nicer to talk about? What have you guys been up to  _ besides _ hair-pulling toe-curling sex?”

_ This _ earned a classic Weiss sputter. Blake could imagine perfectly the deep shade of red the woman was surely turning  _ “I- we’ve just-  _ **_Blake!_ ** _ ” _ Blake let out a cackle, leaning back on the bed against her pillows.  _ “God, you’re incorrigible. We’ve been great, taking in the sights, going to fancy restaurants, sleeping in late… I don’t know, normal honeymoon stuff? Today’s the first day we’ve even thought about Atlas, Ruby called Yang earlier this morning… It’s been very relaxing.” _

Blake sat up quickly at the mention of Yang, before attempting to disguise the motion as something besides eagerness, and then remembering she was on the phone with Weiss, who couldn’t see her, so it didn’t matter. “You talked to Yang? I thought she worked most mornings.”

_ “She was at work, but she’s just on call, so if nothing’s going wrong she can call or text. We chatted a bit on speakerphone before she had to go.  _ **_Speaking_ ** _ of Yang, how was talking to her at the wedding?” _

Blake put her phone on speaker, and started brushing her hair. “It was- I don’t know, nice, I guess? I mean, she’s still Yang. It was nice to catch up.” Blake bit her lip, considering her next question. “Did you ask her how she felt about it?”

_ “She said much the same thing, that she’d missed talking with you. She also promised to check in on you while we’re gone, so don’t be surprised if she stops by the Manor at some point.” _

So Yang  _ hadn’t _ said anything to Ruby, or Weiss, about the night before. Hadn’t mentioned already stopping by, or their plan to have dinner on Saturday. Hadn’t spoken about the kiss, a kiss which, if she was being honest, Blake had first fantasized about years ago. Blake’s stomach twisted slightly, but if Yang hadn’t said anything,  _ she _ wasn’t about to either.

“That sounds fine, I’ll just be here.”

The conversation continued, with Ruby joining in on speakerphone to rant excitedly about the bike ride/zipline tour they were going on later that week, but Blake’s attention was less focused than before. Not that she conveyed that to the two lovebirds.

And if after the call ended, she sat on the bed staring at nothing for a time, no one else was there to see it.


	10. 11 Days A.W. [NSFW]

_11 Days A.W._

  
  


Yang had texted Blake later, after her call with Weiss had finished. Blake had gotten her address, and they’d texted a bit that day and the next. It wasn’t _un_ familiar territory, but Blake was still cautious, overthinking and triple-checking all of her reply texts.

All she knew was that she didn’t want to mess up and hurt Yang again. So she would follow the other woman’s lead; Yang brought up the kissing in their text conversation, so Blake felt comfortable saying how much she’d enjoyed it. Yang _didn’t_ bring up anything regarding when Blake left, so neither did Blake.

Yang also didn’t mention anything about keeping this, whatever _this_ was, from Weiss and Ruby, which was somewhat confusing to Blake. But her best guess was that Yang hadn’t brought it up because she was assuming that it was _obvious_ they would keep it from the freshly married couple. 

Blake reasoned that Yang probably didn’t tell Ruby about all of her make-out sessions; why would Blake be different? If Yang wasn’t one to kiss-and-tell, then neither would Blake.

Which led to Blake sitting in one of Weiss’ cars, parked outside Yang’s apartment building, second-guessing her outfit at the last possible moment. She’d been modifying her outfit all day, ever since getting dressed at noon; changing her shoes after staring at herself in a mirror, changing her bra at 1 after eating a light lunch, changing her pants after reading in the library for an hour at around 3:30. Now, having parked at 5:50, moments before going up to Yang’s door she changed out the jacket she had been wearing for a lighter cardigan. She’d at least had the foresight to bring both options with her.

She sighed, touching up her make-up in the rearview mirror for the fourth time, when her phone alarm went off. She glanced down, saw the text “ _DON’T BE LATE”_ flashing with the current time, 5:53, and decided she was looking as good as possible. So, she shut off her alarm, tossed her phone into her purse, and got out of the car.

Blake had settled on her normal look; tight, dark jeans, some casual black flats, a purple tank-top that didn’t show _too_ much cleavage, and now a nice black cardigan. Make-up, some gold earrings, and a necklace completed her look. Nothing fancy, nothing _out-there_ , nothing too try-hard… hopefully. Blake walked up the stairs to the second floor, and knocked three times on the door marked _4_.

In the midst of worrying that she had knocked too quietly, or had somehow gotten the apartment number wrong, or the entire _address_ wrong, or that her knocks had been spaced too closely together, Yang opened the door. “Blake! You look amazing.”

Yang literally bit her lip after the compliment spilled out, briefly closing her eyes. The blonde woman was wearing a similar outfit to what she’d worn at the bachelorette party; some tastefully-distressed skinny jeans, athletic socks, and a tank top. This one was black, with a stylized pride flag across the chest. It hugged Yang’s breasts in the _worst_ way, and Blake barely managed to tear her eyes away and back up to Yang’s as the other woman opened hers.

“Please, come in.” Yang stepped to the side, and gestured for Blake to enter; Blake stepped inside Yang’s apartment, simultaneously trying to not brush against Yang but also not stay obviously far away.

Luckily, Blake’s worries about how to act casual were banished from her thoughts as she looked around Yang’s apartment. Yang herself, after closing the door, excused herself back to the kitchen to finish cooking, but told Blake to “make yourself at home.”

The walls were covered in what seemed to be local art; it was, at least, mostly unframed, with a variety of signatures across them. The subject matter ranged from mountainscapes to flowers to abstract pieces, but seemed to stay near nature, or at least near earth-tones on the color wheel. What spots weren’t covered with art were covered with fabric; here a pride flag, there a tapestry or quilt of some sort…

The floor was hardwood, but Yang had rugs everywhere, of a multitude of styles. In front of the couch, which was a black, comfy-looking one, the rug was plush and shag, in a nice dark grey. There were all manner of lamps, scattered around the room as height dictated, and they provided a nice soft lighting. A few plants hung from the ceiling, with some more placed in shelves of the entertainment unit, it’s dark brown wood a compliment to the black couch it was placed across from.

Soft music drifted out from the kitchen, where the smells and sounds of cooking were emanating. Blake was about to step closer to some of the art when she felt something pushing on her shin.

Looking down, she was greeted by two yellow eyes looking back up at her; Yang had failed to mention she owned a cat. Blake squatted down, slowly, while extending a hand for the all-black cat to sniff. Her care seemed unnecessary; the cat continued to rub its face against Blake’s shin and calf, and when she provided her hand it all but fell onto it’s back, presenting a stomach much in need of rubs.

Blake chuckled softly, and obliged the creature, which instantly started purring. “Look at you, you poor unloved thing…” Her quiet words and scratches only served to intensify it’s sounds of pleasure. “Yang,” she said, louder now, “you didn’t tell me you had a cat.”

Yang called back from the kitchen “Shoot, did I miss one of his toy mice? I thought I- yeah, I have a cat, his name’s Ebony, he’s like _super_ scared of new things or people so he’ll probably spend all of tonight hiding under my bed or something…”

Blake glanced back down at her right hand, which was being gently pawed at by a very happy-looking, and sounding, cat. “Shy, huh? Yeah, whatever your mom says…” She managed to extricate her hand from the cat-paw prison it had been trapped in after a few more moments, and stood back up, setting her purse and cardigan on the big recliner next to the couch. Stepping out of her shoes, she padded towards the music, and Yang, in the kitchen.

“Do you need any help with anything?”

Yang looked up from the stove, over towards where Blake was leaning against the entrance to the kitchen. Her eyes roamed over Blake’s newly revealed shoulders. “Can I trust you not to burn anything?” When Blake rolled her eyes in response, she was rewarded with Yang’s laugh, clear and bright. “Yeah, actually; come over here and stir this sauce so it doesn’t burn, I gotta roll out the pasta and cook it, cut up some fruit, and then we should be good to eat.”

Blake stepped over to the stove, reaching out for the wooden spoon Yang was currently using to stir the red sauce; it smelled amazing, a mix of onions, garlic, and other herbs. If their hands touched on the spoon change-over, no one commented on it; if Blake’s breathing hitched, she chose to pretend it didn’t.

Blake stirred the sauce, peering into it as she did so. “When did you learn to cook?” She turned towards Yang in anticipation of her response, and almost dropped the spoon into the saucepan.

Yang was rolling out the pasta, as she had said she would. What Blake hadn’t anticipated was how well this activity showed off her bicep muscles, as well as the dense mix of muscles in her back. Her body weight was pressing the dough into the counter, forcefully stretching and rolling it out into longer pieces, to be cut up and cooked.

Blake’s mouth felt very dry. She heard Yang talking, but couldn’t bring herself to focus on any of the specific words. Her eyes were glued to Yang’s hands, firmly kneading the dough. Thankfully, a part of Blake’s brain alerted her that Yang had finished talking. Blake made a noncommittal, affirmative hum in response, continuing to half-heartedly stir the pan of sauce.

Yang, it turned out, owned a hand-cranked pasta roller (because of _course_ she did), and, luckily, the process of feeding the dough through it involved less of her muscles flexing. Blake managed to tune back into the conversation, and act fairly normal until the pasta was finished cooking; as it sat in the boiling water, Yang cut up some pears, and arranged them on a plate, surrounding a pile of raspberries. Before Blake was ready, really, dinner preparations were finished.

Dinner itself was excruciatingly delicious. Delicious, because, it turns out, the pasta and sauce combo Yang had made was phenomenal; not too watery, not too heavy, almost the platonic ideal of a pasta dish. And the fruit was perfectly ripe, the louder flavor of the raspberries softened by the pears.  
  
Excruciating, because Yang was seated directly across from Blake, eating pears and raspberries, and maintaining a surprising amount of eye contact while doing so. Yes, there was conversation, mainly about a book series they had both enjoyed but had soured in public opinion recently, and _yes_ there were also moments of comfortable, companionable silence, but there were also moments where even the background music (something acoustic and soothing) would fade to white noise in Blake’s ears as she watched Yang take a bite out of a pear. Moments when the intense jealousy she felt for a raspberry touching Yang’s lips was downright absurd. Most of these moments ended with Blake gulping down some water, or turning her blushing face downwards to peer interestedly at her own plate of food.

Blake made a solid attempt at volunteering to clean the dishes (“You cooked, Yang, it’s only fair!”) but was just as firmly rebuffed by Yang, who shooed her out into the family room. She found Ebony sleeping, curled up on top of her purse and cardigan, snoring softly. She situated herself on one end of the couch, and pretended to scroll through something on her phone while Yang stacked plates in the sink.

Less than a full minute later, the music from the kitchen switched from Yang’s phone speaker to one near the couch, and Yang walked out of the kitchen, headed towards the couch. On the way, she spotted her cat, slightly rolled onto it’s back on top of Blake’s accoutrements. “Ebony, don’t sleep on top of a guest’s things!” Unceremoniously, Yang slid her hands under the cat; almost instantly, he woke up, felt uncomfortable, and jumped down onto the floor. He stretched, and then looked up at Yang, crying out with a very insulted-sounding yowl. Then, decisively, Ebony leapt up onto the couch, strutted over to Blake, and settled himself in Blake’s lap, looking straight at Yang.  
  
Blake felt obligated to speak up, given Yang’s look of complete and utter surprise. “We, uh, actually met earlier, when I walked in. By the time I asked you about your cat he’d already come over and given me a warm welcome.” Blake looked down into her lap, and started scratching behind one of Ebony’s ears; she was instantly rewarded with a loud, content-sounding purr.

Yang sat down on the other end of the couch, still staring at her pet, happily seated in Blake’s lap. After a moment of silence that, in all honesty, stretched on a bit too long for comfort, she said “...I swear, he doesn’t usually like strangers. He wouldn’t even come out of my bedroom to _look_ at Ruby until like her fifth visit…” Yang’s eyebrows were pushed together, a wrinkle formed between them. Her mouth was quirked into a slight frown.

After another beat of silence, Yang reached out with one hand, and tapped her fingers together, while also clicking her tongue. Ebony stood and stretched, and then walked over to Yang, purring all the while. Yang’s face softened, but still held no small amount of confusion. “What’s gotten you so friendly, huh? Blake just isn’t scary, is that it?”  
  
No answer was forthcoming from the cat. Yang kept petting Ebony, scratching at all of the cat’s favorite spots, and Blake was content to just sit, watching the woman and her pet. She had no idea what to say in response to this knowledge, anyways.   
  
It did strike her, in the moment, that things were veering dangerously close to territory for a ‘conversation’; they hadn’t yet talked about the make-out session, and now they were pretty explicitly on a date, albeit one that neither of them had labelled as such. What’s more, they were in a situation that was rapidly approaching ‘domestic’; no conversation happening, a quiet companionable silence… If there was ever a time to have a ‘what are we’ talk, this seemed like a prime candidate. And heart-to-heart conversations had never been Blake’s strong suit.

Luckily, Yang seemed to have other things on her mind. She put Ebony on the ground, patting the cat twice on the head, and scooted closer to Blake on the couch. Before Blake had time to consider what was happening, Yang was reaching forward, cupping her cheek with one hand, and their lips were pressed together again.  
  
Blake had forgotten how good it felt to kiss Yang; her anxiety about their undefined ‘date’ evaporated in the heat of Yang’s full attention. Hell, her stress around moving to Atlas, around _anything_ just left her mind completely. Blake leaned into the kiss, threading her fingers through Yang’s hair, her other hand pressing against Yang’s ribcage. She let out a soft moan as the blonde woman moved her mouth from her lips to her neck, biting softly.

“I’m not going out anywhere, I don’t mind if you leave a mark.” Blake murmured, in between shallow breaths. Apparently encouraging Yang was a dangerous game, as the other woman moved her hands to Blake’s hips, and pulled her down into a lying position; moments later, she was kneeling above Blake, a smug and slightly feral-looking grin on her face.

“Should I take that to mean you like it rougher, Blakey?” Yang punctuated this sentence with a wink, and before Blake could begin to answer, all but attacked her neck with no small amount of ferocity.  
  
The heat which had been building in Blake’s stomach seemed to ignite, and suddenly she was dying to touch Yang more, to have Yang touch _her_ more. She tightened her grip in Yang’s hair, which only served to have Yang bite down harder on her pulse point.

When Yang moved down to just above her collarbone, Blake relaxed her grip slightly. “I like it rougher, yeah, but I figured _you’d_ be more vanilla.” Two dark violet eyes shot up to meet her own in a glare; Blake managed to keep her face straight, almost innocent, but couldn’t keep the laugh out of her voice. “You know, candles, gentle caresses, things li-” Blakes taunting was cut off by Yang crushing their lips together. A moan escaped Blake’s mouth as Yang bit down on her bottom lip, raised in pitch to a whine as the blonde woman’s hand found its way to Blake’s breasts.

Blake’s skin was buzzing, tingling with need to feel Yang’s. She was surprised, however, when Yang’s hand moved further upwards, past her breasts, to rest on her collarbones, just below her neck. Her breath was coming shallow, and she was barely managing to not buck her hips up into Yang’s.

The blonde woman looked down at Blake with her deep violet eyes, pupils wide. Her face, for a change, seemed fairly serious. “You like it rougher _still_ , Blake?” Blake barely managed a nod, mouth open and slightly panting, eyes glued to Yang’s. “If we start to get rougher, we need to establish some rules.” Again Blake nodded, and Yang’s fingers started to drum gently on Blake’s sternum; her breath stuttered, and she moved her hands up to Yang’s wrist, holding it gently, caressing it.

Yang’s eyes darkened, and the hint of a smug grin appeared on her face. “Now, I’m personally a fan of the stoplight system; if either of us says ‘red’, we stop. No clarification, full stop. If either of us says ‘yellow’, we take a second; maybe just to catch our breath, maybe to discuss something, but we pause. And ‘green’ means ‘I like what is happening and would like it to continue’. Red, yellow, green. Can you repeat those back to me?”

Yang’s eyes were boring into Blake’s. “Red means stop, yellow means wait, green means go.”

Yang’s smile blossomed, and she nodded down at Blake. “Good girl.” Blake was embarrassed by how much more aroused that made her. It must’ve shown on her face, or in some body movement she wasn’t aware of, because Yang’s grin turned predatory. “Oh, you like that? You like being told you’re a good girl?” Yang punctuated her question by pressing her leg in between Blake’s; a positively obscene whine escaped Blake’s mouth, and she nodded.

Yang leaned down, and pressed a kiss to Blake’s lips. “What color are you at, Blake?” She murmured into Blake’s mouth. It took Blake a moment to parse the question; when Yang didn’t immediately hear an answer, she paused her kissing, pulling back far enough to look into Blake’s eyes, eyebrows raised.  
  
“G-green,” Blake managed to get out, too aroused to be embarrassed by the eagerness in her voice. Yang reached out and grabbed Blake’s wrists, lifting them both above her head, before raising her eyebrows again at Blake. The cool metal of Yang’s prosthesis against Blake’s wrists sent goosebumps down her arms. “Green,” Blake breathed out, gently testing how firmly Yang was holding her hands over her head. Yang’s other hand finally rose from Blake’s collarbones to wrap around her neck, applying gentle pressure. Blake started to gently grind against Yang’s knee, and her eyes fluttered shut. “...gree-” Her words were silenced by Yang’s mouth, pressing hungrily against her own.

  
  


_12 Days A.W._

  
  


Outside, a light summer rain had begun to fall. Blake knew this for three reasons; one, she could hear the light pitter-patter of the rain against Yang’s bedroom window. Two, she could feel the added humidity on her skin; it had already been _plenty_ hot and heavy in Yang’s apartment, but the additional moisture in the atmosphere was noticeable, even so. And three, she could smell the rain; Yang had, moments ago, gotten off the bed, and she had opened the window, at least slightly. Multiple orgasms, on both of their parts, had led to a somewhat stifling atmosphere in the bedroom.   
  
Blake wasn’t sure how _much_ the window was open, because she was currently laying on Yang’s bed, naked and _blindfolded_ , her hands in soft cuffs above her head and attached to the headboard.

“Yaaaaaaaang…” She let out in a pleading voice. It had only been a moment since Yang had stood up, but Blake could hear her moving around her bedroom, so the woman was still present. Blake’s issue was that she was close but not close enough to feel, or taste. She heard a low chuckle in response.

“Relax, Blake, I haven’t forgotten about you. _God_ you’re needy, you know that?” Blake let out a humph, which was quickly followed by a squeak as Yang slapped the inside of her thigh, right on the spot where she’d left an _extremely_ dark hickey; before putting the blindfold on, three orgasms after the oral which had included that hickey, Blake could still see the teeth marks in her thigh.

Yang knelt (it felt like a kneel, but she could be sitting) back on the bed, and lazily trailed her hand just above Blake’s left hip.

Blake knew, even without her ability to see, where Yang was touching. It was the same spot that had drawn her eyes a few hours ago, when they had first taken their clothes off. The spot she had wrenched Yang’s attention away from earlier by shoving her own hand into Yang’s underwear. It was a jagged scar, so low that it looked like the wound might have hit her actual hipbone.  
  
It, of course, had. When Adam had stabbed her, four years ago, his machete had glanced off of her hip bone, which, the doctors had said at the time, had probably kept the stab wound from going any deeper. 

Behind the blindfold, Blake closed her eyes, taking a lightly shuddering breath in. She tried to forget that night, to forget her scar, and focus on the feel of Yang’s fingers, gliding across her skin. But she felt her heartbeat accelerating, in a different way than it had been all night, felt a tightness starting to form in her chest.

“Yellow.”

Yang’s hand stilled instantly, and then quickly moved off of her hip. “What do you need?” Blake could hear the concern in Yang’s voice; this was the first time either of them had said anything but “Green” all night.

“I just… I just need a second.”

“Of course. Do you want the blindfold off, or water, or anything?”

Blake shook her head, assuming that Yang was looking at her. Outside, the rain continued to softly fall; a car drove by, tires splashing through puddles on the street outside the apartment. Hating how quiet her voice was, Blake said “Can you, like, rub my calf or something? I want to feel you.”  
  
Left unspoken was the fact that Yang _had_ been touching her. Yang’s hand appeared on Blake’s right calf, rubbing gently, up and down, a tender squeezing with her thumb every now and then. A gust of wind blew through the window, and Blake felt a fine mist of rain land on her face. She took a deep breath before speaking.

“...I don’t want to talk about it.” Yang’s hand slowed for a moment, then resumed rubbing Blake’s calf as Blake continued. “The scar.”

Blake could imagine Yang’s nod. “We don’t have to talk about it. Do you want me to not touch it?”

Again, Blake shook her head. “It’s fine if you touch it, just… don’t treat it differently than any other part of my body.”  
  
Yang squeezed her calf again. “We don’t have to keep going, Blake. I don’t want-”

Blake cut the other woman off, “No, I want- I want to, I don’t want to stop.” Any other time she might have been embarrassed by the pleading tone present in her voice.

“Tell me what you want Blake.”

The domineering inflection was back in Yang’s voice, and just like that arousal flooded back into Blake’s system. “I want to feel you, I want you inside of me, I want…” Her voice trailed off into a needy whine as Yang’s hand trailed higher from her calf, past her thigh until it was so close to her slit Blake would swear she could feel the heat coming off of Yang’s hand on her clit. “Yang, please…” She arched her back, trying to get Yang’s hand closer to her center, but Yang kept her hand slightly away, ever teasing, ever denying what Blake wanted.

“Open your mouth.” Her lips parted instantly in response to Yang’s words; almost as quickly Yang’s fingers left Blake’s thigh and pushed into her mouth. Blake could taste her own sweat on Yang’s fingers. Yang’s other hand started tweaking her nipples; the cooler metallic hand sent shivers down Blake’s spine. She sucked greedily on Yang’s fingers, and bucked her hips off the bed, trying to create something to grind on out of nothing. A needy whine escaped her throat.

“I was planning on getting some rope to tie your legs down, but you don’t have the patience to endure that, do you?” Yang’s voice was soft and understanding, with an under-layer of iron confidence. Blake whimpered in response, shaking her head and sucking harder on Yang’s fingers as the tweaking of her nipples escalated into pinching.

Yang’s fingers slipped out of Blake’s mouth, and trailed down her neck, her sternum. “Yang, please, I…” The rest of her begging trailed off into another whine as Yang halted her southward journey just below her hip bones, trailing through pubic hair and scratching lightly.

“Shhhhh, it’s ok Blake. You wanna cum, yeah? You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” Yang emphasized her point by letting her fingers slide across Blake’s clit every time she said the word ‘cum’. Blake’s hips jerked upward each time, but Yang continued to deny her something to push against. She was left making mewling noises, hips twitching, as Yang slowly trailed her hand lower.

Blake was surprised by the feeling of Yang’s mouth, closing around one of her nipples, as her fingers started to tease Blake’s folds (well, not _that_ surprised, Yang’s pupils had visibly dilated earlier when Blake first took off her bra, and the blonde had already left a litany of marks across her upper chest and sternum). She was about to try to wrangle a sentence of words together, an intelligible plea for Yang to stop teasing her, when Yang’s fingers finally pushed past her entrance.

Even after three orgasms, having Yang touch her like this set Blake’s body alight. A positively indecent moan escaped her lips, and she ground her hips down onto Yang’s hand. The moan escalated into a cry when Yang’s teeth met her nipple; with a firm bite the other woman was pulling away from Blake’s chest, and the combined sensations was pushing Blake quickly towards a fourth orgasm. 

“Ohmigod Yang, _yes_ , please, fuck me, god fuck me good, fuck me like you mean it,” Blake’s mouth was a running commentary of inappropriate comments, anything to get Yang to push deeper, to go faster, to bite harder. Yang’s pace did increase, and she added a third finger, which drew a positively obscene cry from Blake’s mouth. Yang’s mouth moved up to Blake’s neck, up further to just behind Blake’s ear.

“Are you getting close, Blake?” Blake was past any coherent words, and could only manage a jerky nod. Yang’s breath on her ear and neck sent goosebumps all the way down Blake’s neck and back; the way Yang was trailing her tongue along her neck, and intermittently blowing gently onto Blake’s ear.

Already, Blake could feel the peak of her orgasm approaching; it had been like this all night. Blake’s previous experience with sex, albiet limited, had seemed to indicate that Blake was _not_ easy to bring to orgasm, and yet Yang seemed more than capable of doing it quickly and efficiently; the blonde woman seemed to know exactly how to take Blake apart, to dismantle her and leave her in a happy puddle of relaxation.

Blake wanted to let Yang know, to tell her not to stop, to give some indication that she was coming undone, but the blonde woman seemed not to need any input from Blake.  
  
“You’re close, yeah? C’mon Blake, cum for me, one more time.”

Yang’s voice, as had all night, held an undertone Blake hadn’t heard before; a raspy, hoarse quality. It had started earlier; after the kissing had escalated to clothed groping and grinding, Yang had stepped more fully into the domme role.

“Alright Blake, I want you to strip.” Her eyes covered by the blindfold, Blake could easily picture the bossy, arms crossed pose Yang had struck when she had said it. And as she’d taken her top off, undone her bra, and slid her pants and panties down to her ankles, she’d seen the hunger apparent in Yang’s eyes. And heard the lower tones in her voice, that had remained for the night, when the woman had murmured “You’re so beautiful.”

Things had escalated quickly from there, but now, eyes closed behind Yang’s silken blindfold, Blake thought back to those words, from a few hours ago. Thought back to the almost reverent way in which they’d been uttered; it was an easy thing for Blake to hear those words in her mind and give herself fully into the pleasure she was feeling.

The cry Blake gave when she came was close to a sob.

When she came back to herself, it was to soft murmurs of praise from Yang, whose hands were now gently unbuckling the cuffs around her wrists, and delicately pulling the blindfold off of her eyes. Blake squinted at the sudden brightness; Yang’s bedroom was only dimly lit, but the contrast from total black was jarring, nonetheless.  
  
“You did so great Blake, so good. Can you sit up for a second? I want you to drink some water.”   
  
Blake’s mind was sluggish through her post-ograsmic haze; sitting up sounded like the worst thing in the world. But, as it had all night, the prospect of making Yang happy, of having her call Blake a ‘good girl’, was tempting enough. She sat up, with no small amount of help from Yang, and drank some cool water out of a glass; when had Yang gotten this? A gust of cool air from the now open bedroom door gave Blake her answer; she must have been a bit senseless after that last orgasm.

Yang’s hands covered hers, and she gently took the glass back from Blake, to set it on her bedside table. With nothing further to occupy her attention, Blake leaned heavily into Yang’s body; the other woman was so _warm_ , and smelled so _good_.

By the time Yang removed her prosthetic arm, switched off her bedside light, and scooted them down into a lying position, Blake was already asleep.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As per usual, Blake woke up at six AM. She had a momentary flash of panic when she realized she wasn’t in the bedroom at Schnee Manor she had acclimated to; the panic quickly faded when she realized that her pillow was, in fact, Yang Xiao Long, whose arm was draped loosely around her as she slept.

Quietly, without disturbing Yang, Blake extricated herself from the woman’s arms, got dressed, and made her exit from the apartment. Apart from a momentary shushing of Ebony as she left, her departure went unnoticed.

Blake had planned to go back to sleep upon arriving back at the Manor; four hours of sleep was a bit low, even for her. But, by the time she finished her drive the sun was peeking over the horizon, and birds were starting to sing, and so Blake decided to make some morning tea, instead. She would just take a nap later, or go to bed early.

She was finishing up her tea, and a piece of toast, when her phone buzzed.

_7:04 AM - god u rly did a numbr on my back_

_7:04 AM - [IMG_0251.jpg]_

Blake nearly spit tea across the table when she saw the picture Yang had attached to her message; All down the woman’s shoulders and back were long, angry-looking, red scratches. They extended up to the nape of her neck, and down low enough that Yang’s underwear cut off the bottom of them.

The picture was, also, a _fantastic_ picture of Yang’s back and arms; she’d taken it in her bathroom mirror, and her pose made her look almost like a bodybuilder. Her bicep flexing where she was holding the phone up, the line of her spine almost obscured by her trapezius muscles… Blake physically shook her head to bring herself back to the moment.

_Oh my god I am *SO* sorry - 7:06 AM_

_7:06 AM - nah r u kidding?_

_7:07 AM - itll be covered up by my shirt, and even if it wasnt i would just have mad bragging rights about the gr8 sex i had ;)_

Blake’s face flushed lightly, and she couldn’t help but give a small, fond shake of her head as she typed her reply.

_Glad to hear that your reputation is safe -7:09 AM_

_;) - 7:09 AM_

Almost as soon as she sent it Blake was second guessing the winky face; she eventually settled on ‘Yang sent one first, so sending one in response is acceptable’. Yang didn’t reply, and Blake was content to leave their text conversation there, until she entered the bathroom to take a shower.

She’d known that Yang had left marks on her; the mark on her inner thigh was visible without a mirror, as were some on her breasts. But she hadn’t looked super closely, and not in a mirror, until this moment; her entire neck and upper chest was a cavalcade of dark, purple, angry-looking bruises. One in particular, which was still delightfully tender when Blake poked it, had faint marks of Yang’s teeth still showing.

_Also, it’s not like your back was the only victim last night - 7:15 AM_

_I look like I fought off a horde of vampires - 7:16 AM_

_7:16 AM - im sure its not TAHT bad_

_7:17 AM - besides, i dont remember u complaining ;) ;)_

If Blake had gotten more sleep, she might have hesitated; if she hadn’t already removed her shirt and been examining the record of last night, spread across her upper torso, she might not have done it at all. But the more overt flirting from Yang had emboldened her, and so, holding an arm across her chest to give herself _some_ decency (she wasn’t going to send Yang a _nude_ photo, that would be absurd), she snapped a picture. Her hair was tied back, showing off her neck, and while the photo didn’t show her eyes she _had_ cropped it such to include the smirk that was resting on her mouth.

_[IMG_0059.jpg] - 7:19 AM_

_‘Not that bad’, huh? - 7:19 AM_

_7:19 AM - OMG_

_7:20 AM - wow it rly does look gnarly under like real lighting, huh?_

_7:20 AM -damn_

_7:21 AM - hope u werent planning on going shopping or anything today_

_7:21 AM - god i rly DID go to town on ur neck_

_The one on my right thigh is worse than any of these. - 7:22 AM_

_But that’s at least out of sight for most outfits. - 7:23 AM_

_7:23 AM - only MOST????_

_7:24 AM - blake, i didnt think ur fashion sense was so BOLD_

_I could go swimming, you don’t know. - 7:24 AM_

_7:25 AM - my complex has a pool_

_7:26 AM - its actually pretty nice, lmk if you wanna swim ever_

Blake couldn’t think of a response, and so she left her phone on the bathroom counter, and stepped into the shower. And if her thoughts were on a certain blonde woman in a small, black and yellow bikini, or if the shower was colder than her usual, well that was Blake’s business, and no one else’s.


	11. 16 Days A.W. [NSFW]

_16 Days A.W._

  
  


They’d ended up going swimming the next day; or at least, Blake had driven to Yang’s apartment, wearing her swimsuit, _ready_ to swim.

To be fair, they _had_ made it down to the pool, and laid out their towels in the bright, midafternoon sunshine. Then, Yang had taken her t-shirt off.

Blake’s mouth had gone dry in a way she hadn’t felt since the first time she’d gotten too high with Sun, her freshman year. Yang’s muscles, always visible, always attention-grabbing, were on full display. Her bikini, a skimpy black bottom paired with a striped black and yellow top, wasn’t _indecently_ small, but it was small enough to leave plenty of skin on display. And the skin that was on display was almost all rippling muscle; six-pack abs, defined biceps, and broad shoulders dominated Blake’s vision.

It wasn’t until Yang actually snickered at her that Blake realized how much long she’d been staring.

This, of course, had only motivated Blake to remove her own outerwear; the suit she’d decided on was a one-piece, but Blake knew how good it made her legs look. The fact that it’s neckline dove down to her stomach, with a mesh screen rising up to a more reasonable bust-line, didn’t hurt either. When Blake turned back towards Yang, sunscreen in hand, and asked “Hey, could you do me?”, she swore she could hear the woman’s heart rate increase.

After about five minutes of _highly_ indecorous making out by the pool, the two had quickly adjourned back to Yang’s apartment. By the time either of them had been thinking about swimming again, they were both painfully aware of how long it had been since either of them had eaten food; by the time they finished dinner, the sun had already set.

Yang had said they could try again another time, and Blake had simply laughed, which earned her a tackle backwards onto Yang’s bed, and…

Well, she’d eventually made it back to the Manor. It _may_ have been after midnight, but a lady never tells.

Their texting had continued, on and off, while Yang was in a free moment at work, or when Blake sent picture proof of her ability to cook an un-burnt dinner. They’d exchanged a few more pictures; nothing _actually_ lewd, but… they were certainly flirting with the boundary between PG-13 and R. And their text conversations regarding their preferences were _definitely_ R-rated territory. If not NC-17.

All of this was why Blake wasn’t overly surprised when, three days after going to the pool, she was interrupted from her reading by her phone buzzing. 

_10:46 PM - blake_

_10:46 PM - blaaaaaaake_

_10:46 PM - wyd_

Blake, looking down at her phone, blinked twice before responding.

_...is this a booty call? - 10:47 PM_

_10:47 PM - its not NOT a bootycall_

_10:47 PM - but fr wyd?_

_Didn’t you go out to the bar with your coworkers tonight? - 10:48 PM_

_I’m just reading - 10:49 PM_

_10:48 PM - i *did* go to the bar with the crew, ya_

_10:49 PM - but that’s done now and i cant get u off my mind_

Blake shook her head, smiling fondly, and set her book aside. She flipped the blankets back on her bed, and started rummaging around her luggage for some leggings and slip-on shoes.

_You’re lucky you live such a short drive from the Manor. - 10:52 PM_

_And you’re lucky I was reading a romance novel. - 10:53 PM_

_[Blake] has shared their ETA with you! Open ‘Maps’ to track their progress - 10:53 PM_

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Yang had answered her door before Blake completed her usual three-knock pattern. Her hair was slightly mussed, and she was holding a glass of whiskey in her hand. The intensity with which Yang’s eyes travelled down and back up Blake’s body sent an almost visible shiver down Blake’s entire spine.

“You drive too fast. C’mon, you want anything to drink?” Yang had the air of a cat, watching its prey; Blake could feel her eyes on her back as she closed and locked Yang’s door.

“The roads are empty at eleven on a wednesday night, relax. And… I could do a shot.” Blake met Yang’s eyes again, the already dark purple orbs deepening towards a rich red. Without a word, the taller woman moved into her kitchen; Blake took advantage of the moment to bend down and greet Ebony, who was looking confusedly around as he woke up from a nap on the couch. “Hey sweetie, I’m sorry I woke you up. It’s just me.” Ebony sniffed, curiously, at Blake’s knuckles, licked them once, and settled back into a tight ball with a small mewl.

When she entered the kitchen, Yang was wiping up some whiskey from the counter, two shot glasses next to the spill filled almost to the point of displaying surface tension. Blake raised an eyebrow. “You good?”

Yang huffed, and almost knocked the rag into the shot glasses. “I’m fine.” She only slightly slurred between the two words, but it was noticeable. Turning to Blake, she rolled her eyes. “Alright, _maybe_ I’m already a bit tipsy from the bar and _maybe_ that’s why I texted you at like midnight. So _maybe_ pouring the shots was tricker than I thought it would be.”

Blake stepped closer, picking up the slightly more-full shot glass (it was a close comparison). “You ok to be drinking more alcohol? I wouldn’t want to… take advantage of you.” Blake relished the way Yang’s eyes were locked onto her lips as she spoke; when she bit her bottom lip after she finished speaking, Yang’s eyes lingered, and then rose back to her own.  
  
Raising the other shot glass, Yang’s eyes positively burned with arousal, their color already a near-opaque shade of purple. “Oh believe me Blake; you won’t be taking advantage of me.” The imminent promise lingering behind Yang’s words sent a shiver down her spine as they both downed their shots.   
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Yang, we are _not_ doing any more shots, _god_ . How do you have the energy to even _want_ to do shots?”

Yang flopped back down onto the bed beside Blake, her naked skin glistening with sweat. The strap-on attached to her at the hips oscillated back and forth as the blonde woman giggled.

“Blakeblakeblakeblakebla- _Blake_ . We agreed; one orgnasm,” the blonde collapsed momentarily further into giggles, then recovered enough to continue. “One or-ga-sm, one shot. And, unless those sounds were indicating _differently_ , I _believe_ that was an oragsm.”

Blake turned her head, glancing at the clock. “Yaaaaang, it’s late. _You_ are super drunk. We aren’t doing more shots because we’re going to _bed_.”

Yang huffed, but moved her hands to the harness she was wearing to loosen its straps. “You’re no fun.” After a few moments of attempting to loosen the harness, to no avail, Yang instead tried to just slip out of the harness. When this failed to work (Blake had tightened the harness enough to _really_ show off Yang’s ass), Yang’s hands fell to her sides on the bed, and let out a soft wail of “Blaaaaaaaaaaake, heeeeeeelp….”

Giggling softly, Blake sat up and began loosening the harness. “I’ve got it, don’t worry.” After a moment of pulling on the bands in the correct way, the harness loosened enough for Blake to stand up off the bed, and pull the harness off of Yang’s legs. The blonde lifted her hips off the bed, but was otherwise content to lay almost entirely motionless, swaying her head back and forth to the music that was playing.

After getting the harness off, and removing the dildo from it, Blake crossed to the window and opened it further. A pleasantly cool breeze blew into the room; despite the warm summer weather, Atlas cooled down quite nicely once the time passed one AM.

Yang was peering up at Blake, upside down from her perspective, still laying on her back on the bed. Blake realized she’d been staring back at Yang for more than a fleeting moment. She cleared her throat. “Alright, stay here, I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you _going_?” Yang cried out as she left the bedroom, starting to lift herself off her bed.

“ _Relax_ , Yang, I’m just grabbing us some water.” The blonde woman, apparently satisfied with Blake’s answer, flopped back onto the bed.

Blake filled up two glasses with cold water in the kitchen sink; over the kitchen counter, she could see Ebony, curled up on the back of the couch. He lifted his head and shot her a glare.

“I know, I’m sorry we were making so much noise, baby.”

The cat, seemingly unimpressed with Blake’s apology, put his head back down and closed his eyes again.

Blake walked back into Yang’s bedroom, leaving the door open; _god_ it really was sweaty in this room. Yang had been removing her prosthetic arm; she had just placed it on the bedside table when Blake re-entered. When Blake sat back down on the bed, Yang rolled over and threw her arm across Blake’s waist, burying her face in Blake’s thigh.

“I missed you.” Yang’s voice was muffled, as she was speaking directly into Blake’s hip. Blake nudged the woman’s head gently with her elbow, chuckling softly, and the blonde sat up, taking one of the glasses out of Blake’s hands.

Blake chuckled. “How did you miss me? I was just in the kitchen.”

Yang gulped down half the glass in a single swallow, shivering slightly at the temperature difference. “Not then, before that.”

Blake frowned softly, furrowing her brow. “Earlier today? At the bar? We were texting like _constantly_.”

Yang groaned, and tried to set her glass down on the nightstand, starting to lay back down; Blake grabbed her hands and pushed the glass back towards Yang, who rewarded her with an eye roll. “God, the whole crew was giving me non-stop shit, like ‘who are you texting’, ‘what’s her name’, ‘look at Yang’s smile’, it was ridiculous.” Yang swallowed the rest of the water, turned her glass upside down while raising both eyebrows at Blake, and set it on the nightstand. She clicked off the light, plunging the bedroom into darkness, and all but slammed her head back into the pillow.

Blake leaned back against the headboard; Yang rolled over and flung an arm across Blake’s stomach, pulling her closer, and resting her forehead against the side of Blake’s ribs.

“And no, _not_ at the bar. Before that.” Yang followed up her statement with a large yawn that Blake could feel against her side; feeling Yang’s lips skimming her skin sent shocks of electricity across her body, but she managed to not jump.

“ _Before_ that? Yang, we saw each other three days ago, at the pool, _remember_? And we had dinner together the night before that.”

Yang nuzzled closer into Blake’s side. Already her breathing was slowing, evening out. “N’t then, _before_ that.”

Before that dinner had been the cooking disaster, and before that the wedding, both of which were, frankly full of her seeing Yang.  
  
Before _that_ …

Well.

Blake held the half-empty glass of water against her sternum as Yang drifted off to sleep beside her. By the time she finished drinking it, any chill the water had once held had vanished. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When the alarm clock read 5:45 AM, Blake gave up on getting any sleep. She gently moved Yang’s arm off of her, causing the other woman to give a soft murmur of protest, but otherwise stay fast asleep.

Blake stood from the bed, and quietly put her clothes on. She picked up the dildo from where it had been left on the floor, and took it into the bathroom, washing it in the sink, and leaving it on a towel to dry. She grabbed two tablets of ibuprofen. In the bedroom, she set the painkillers on the nightstand, grabbed both empty glasses, and went to the kitchen; Ebony gave her a soft yowl of greeting, but she shushed him. 

She refilled both glasses, and downed one, leaving it empty in the sink. The other she returned to Yang’s bedside table, setting it next to the ibuprofen, and being careful to arrange everything far enough away from the bed to avoid any early morning flailing.

She slipped her shoes back on, picked up her purse, and scribbled a note on Yang’s kitchen counter. It read:  
  


_Yang,_

_I hope you don't have too much to do today, but either way:_

_Drink lots of water. I know you don't want to but it'll help your hangover._

_Blake_

She quietly opened and closed Yang’s front door, leaving it locked behind her. Blake walked down the stairs to street level, and crossed the street to Weiss’ car. She drove home, alone on the roads.

When she finally made it back into the Manor, up into her room, Blake lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, trying and failing to sleep, as the light of the rising sun slowly illuminated her room.


	12. 23 Days A.W.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Dissociative Response to Trauma

_ 23 Days A.W. _

  
  


The next week was, unsurprisingly, filled with much of the same. Yang stopped by one night to watch movies with Blake at the Manor; Blake managed to convince her to keep the sex to the bedroom Weiss was letting her use (“We  _ cannot _ have sex down here, this is  _ her  _ house!” “She gets it professionally cleaned, it’s fiiiine Blake.”). 

They manage to make it to the pool; Yang invited Blake again, and by the time Blake arrived Yang was already in the water. Perhaps more helpful was the fact that a young family was  _ also _ using the pool. Either way, Blake spent the day lounging in the sun, reading, watching Yang swim from under her sunglasses, or swimming a bit herself. They made tuna salad for dinner, and Blake didn’t leave Yang’s apartment until six the next morning.

Blake got a text from an unknown number, inviting her to a game night; turns out it was Sun, who got her number from Weiss (“Sun! They’re on their  _ honeymoon _ , you can’t just text them!” “I wanted to invite you, Weiss said she was fine with it.” “ _ Of course _ Weiss said she was fine with it,  _ she’s Weiss _ .”). She was dead set on not going until Yang asked her if she was coming. Her decision got quickly reversed after that.

It was incredibly awkward at first; the party consisted of their college friend group, minus Ruby and Weiss. No one brought up Blake leaving, but the conversation started off stilted. Yang solveed this problem by insisting they all play King’s Cup; Pyrrha suggested a compromise, and so they all did a round of shots and then played charades. Blake managed to not end up on Yang’s team, and so they made it through the night without any overt flirting, although Blake thought she spotted Nora looking between the two of them with a slight frown on her face. At least she wasn’t outright glaring at Blake anymore.

After charades Ren brought out the more structured board games; Yang, Ren, Neptune, and Juane got drawn into some resource-management eurogame, but Blake, Nora, Sun, and Pyrrha ended up just playing hearts. Everyone was loosened up by the alcohol; Sun and Pyrrha were the most drunk of the eight present, and so the room was filled with laughter, loud talking, and shouts of indignation from the board game table. Nora had a furrow in her brow whenever she looked at Blake, which was almost the entire time they’re playing hearts, but she never asked any probing questions, and Blake never volunteered any personal information, and so the conversation stayed light and easy.

As the party wound down, Yang made eye contact with Blake as she walked out the door. When Blake knocked on Yang’s apartment door, a scant fifteen minutes later, Yang pulled her inside with such force Blake stumbled and almost fell; Yang’s arms easily kept her upright, and Blake would be lying if she said it wasn’t sexy.

Their texting continued; Blake thought about telling Yang she'd found an apartment she really liked, but decided against it, and so their conversation remained definitively flirty, if not outright sexual, in nature. Ruby texted Blake a generic update; the honeymoon is going fine, they are on schedule to arrive home in five days, Weiss is beautiful, Ruby is so lucky, etc etc.

Two days later, Blake’s phone rang at eleven at night. Blake glanced down (hopefully) at the screen, and smiled when she saw " _ Yang Xiao Long _ ", and her number under the name. Blake pressed ‘answer’ and raised the phone to her ear.

"You don't normally call-" Blake greeting was cut off by a male voice on the other end of the phone.

"Hi Blake, it's Ren. Yang's fine," Blake blinked, trying to recover from the whiplash of momentarily being worried about Yang’s safety. "but today… We had a hard call come in, it was a thing with a young family, and she's… I just worry she won't do a good job taking care of herself tonight."

Blake sat, still, on the edge of the cushy armchair. "...Why are you calling  _ me _ ?"

Ren chuckled through the phone. "Ruby's out of town, and you’re… You’re Blake and Yang. You've always been good at making sure Yang takes care of herself. She'll be home by midnight, I'll make sure of it, so if you-" Ren's voice stopped suddenly, and Blake heard Yang's, in the background.

" Ren, I'm fine. Now gimme my- who are you talking to?  _ Ren, give me- _ " and the call ended.

Blake sat, still holding her phone, waiting for another call, or maybe a text, or… Something. Yang's voice, even over the phone, had sounded dead, absent any of her usual enthusiasm or intensity.

Well, until the end, when it had flared hot with fury.

It wasn't until the library's grandfather clock chimed twelve times that Blake realized how much time had passed. Coming to a decision quickly, she all but flew out of the library, grabbed her purse and was out the door in under a minute.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She reached Yang’s apartment complex in almost half the time it usually took; the fact that she didn’t have a speeding ticket to show for it was proof that she wasn’t unlucky  _ all _ the time.

When she knocked on Yang’s door, there wasn’t an answer from inside; there wasn’t any sound at all. She glanced over her shoulder, but there was Yang’s motorcycle, proof that she was home. Turning back to the apartment, she tried to peer through the frosted glass in the door. No lights were on inside; maybe Yang had already fallen asleep?

She knocked again, soft enough to be polite to Yang’s neighbors at this late hour, but loudly enough to easily be heard inside Yang’s apartment. This time, she  _ did _ hear something from inside the apartment; a soft, plaintive meowing. It sounded like Ebony was on the other side of the front door.

On a whim, Blake tried the handle; she was surprised when it turned, opening Yang’s door. She stepped inside, Ebony meowing the whole time. Before she greeted the cat, Blake felt near the door for a light-switch. Finding it, she switched on the light.

Yang was sitting on her couch, staring at the coffee table.

Blake started a bit, but managed not to cry out. She closed the door behind her, making sure Ebony was still inside when she did so. Now that she was inside, he was already crossing the family room to Yang. When he reached the couch, he jumped up, then jumped again to the back of the couch, and sat directly behind Yang, staring at her. Blake took the opportunity to do the same.

Yang was still wearing her biker jacket, zipped up, presumably from the ride home. Her backpack was still on her back, and her hands were both still, curled inwards to her lap. Her hair seemed dirty; as Blake walked slowly towards the couch, she saw that there was dirt, or maybe ash, mixed into it, dulling its color. The same substance was all over Yang’s face; the only cleaner spots were two tracks down her cheeks, starting at her eyes.

Blake crouched down on the other side of the table, as close to Yang’s eyeline as she could. “Yang?” She asked softly.

Yang blinked, and her eyes drifted up to meet Blake’s. Her eyes had none of their usual intensity, and there was confusion apparent in those pale lavender orbs.

“...Blake?”

Blake nodded. “Hi. Ren called me, on your phone. He said… He said it was a tough day.”

At her mention of Ren, Yang’s eyes had flashed briefly crimson; all too quickly they dulled back towards almost grey. In lieu of saying anything, Yang nodded, and her gaze dropped slowly back down to the coffee table in front of her. She clenched her jaw, and then spoke, voice low.

“You don’t have to be here. I’ll be fine.”

It was painfully quiet in the apartment; the only sound besides the two women breathing was the soft sound of Ebony grooming himself, still sitting directly behind Yang.

Blake cleared her throat quietly. “Do you want me to go?”

Yang’s eyes darted back up to Blake’s, and her brow furrowed. She blinked twice, and then shook her head.

Blake nodded in response, and stood, walking to the kitchen. She filled a glass with water, filled a bowl with water, and grabbed the towel from it’s hook near the sink. Returning to Yang’s side, she sat down beside her on the couch and handed over the glass of water, setting the bowl and towel on the table.

“Drink.” Blake directed. Yang had watched her journey into the kitchen, but said nothing; she merely obeyed, tilting the glass into her mouth and draining it in one go.

Blake reached out, and grabbed the nearest strap of the backpack; pushing at Yang’s arm gently, she managed to get it off of the woman’s left shoulder, and extricate Yang’s left arm. With some kneeling on the couch, and some leaning, she moved the other strap off of Yang’s right shoulder, and moved her right arm through the strap, allowing the bag to fall back onto the couch.

Returning to beside Yang instead of behind and slightly over her, Blake sat with her right leg tucked under her, facing the blonde sideways on the couch. She reached out again, and, grabbing Yang’s left knee and shoulder, angled the woman towards her. Yang allowed herself to be moved, brow still furrowed.

“Let’s get you out of that coat, huh?” Blake pitched her voice soft, and low. Her movements were slow as she reached out and started to unzip the jacket, undoing the snaps as she reached them. Yang’s eyes stayed on her face.

When the jacket was unzipped, Blake pushed the sides of it apart and off of Yang’s shoulders; here, at least, Yang was willing to help more actively, and drew her arms out of its sleeves, to return to their place in her lap. Blake reached out and picked up the bowl and towel, placing the bowl in her own lap.

She searched Yang’s eyes for a long moment, but found no new information in them. Blake let out a long sigh. “I hate tough days, especially long tough days. I’m sorry you had one.” She dipped the corner of the towel into the water, and raised it to Yang’s forehead, pressing it to the skin and wiping a line clear of ash across it.

She returned the towel to the bowl of water in her lap, and continued washing Yang’s face free of ash. The other woman made no move to stop her; she closed her eyes when Blake asked her too, allowed the damp cloth to wipe away the ash on her eyelids, then reopened them to stare at Blake’s face.

Soon Yang’s face was cleaner, and the towel and the bowl of water were both dirty. Blake moved them to the table, then looked back at Yang, holding out her hands. “C’mon, time to stand up.” Yang, still slightly frowning, still quiet, took Blake’s hands, and Blake stood them both up. Then, leading Yang by the hand, Blake led her into the bathroom, flicking on the light as she did so. She turned back towards the blonde.

“You need to shower. Your hair is dirty, and I bet your neck and shoulders are too, and it’ll make you feel better.” Yang gave a slight nod, and Blake turned to the shower, turning it on and towards hot. When she looked back, Yang was staring at her reflection, jaw clenched. Or, more accurately, Yang was staring at the reflection of her prosthetic arm.

“...Can I help you take it off?” Yang’s eyes met Blake’s then, in the mirror. Blake looked towards Yang’s actual face, and reached out, turning the other woman’s face to meet her own gaze. Blake felt Yang’s face pressing into her hand as she did so. “I’m assuming that you can’t shower with it attached?” Yang stared at her, and eventually shook her head. “Would it bother you for me to help take it off, or see you with it off?” Another shake of Yang’s head, this one almost before Blake had finished talking. Blake nodded. “Ok, then. Let’s do that.”

Yang sat on the closed toilet lid, and rolled up her right sleeve with her left arm. She pointed to two small indentations, past the elbow joint of the prosthesis.

“Push there?” Yang nodded, and spoke in response.

“You’ve gotta push hard.” Her voice was raspy, and muffled by the sound of the shower water. Blake nodded, and pushed her fingers into the two indentations; after no small amount of resistance, both clicked in, as clearly they were supposed to. Yang then, with her left hand, pulled down sharply on the entire prosthesis; it came off with a soft ‘pop’ and then Yang was sitting on the toilet, holding one arm in her other.

Blake reached out and took the prosthetic arm from Yang’s hand, setting it on the counter. “Alright, time to shower.” Yang stood up, and grabbed at the hem of her shirt, but Blake’s hand on her own stopped her. Pale purple eyes met amber ones. “Do you want me to help?” Blake tried her hardest to keep any pity out of her voice; her tone was the same as if she had just asked about the weather. Yang stared into her eyes, and eventually gave a slight nod.

Blake had taken Yang’s clothing off before, but here, in the steam coming out of the shower, she went slower than she had before, delicately and carefully sliding Yang’s t-shirt off over the blond’s head, and unclasping her bra. She undid Yang’s jeans, and helped the other woman step out of first them, and then her panties.

Yang stood, then, looking more tired than Blake had ever seen her. After a moment, she turned towards the shower, but Blake’s hand stopped hers again. Again, Yang’s eyes darted to Blake’s, confusion apparent.

“Can I shower with you?”

Yang blinked, seemed to consider the question, then nodded. She leaned against the counter, eyes never leaving Blake’s face, as Blake quickly removed the sweats and loose top she’d been wearing, as well as her own panties.

“Alright, let’s get in.”   
  
Yang stepped into the shower first, and Blake followed behind her, sliding the door shut behind her. Blake returned her gaze to Yang to find the blonde woman watching her, curiosity now apparent in her eyes. Blake motioned towards the steaming water.   
  
“Get your hair wet. I’ll wash it for you.”

Yang did, and Blake washed her hair. She pressed hard into Yang’s scalp, massaging her hands back and forth as the suds turned from white to an ashy grey. Blake had her rinse her hair out, and then washed it again, ensuring that every bit of ash was gone from Yang’s head.

This process, or slight variations of it, were repeated; Blake scrubbed at Yang’s neck, and sternum, and shoulders, and back; Yang reached for the loofah when Blake neared her breasts, or butt, or in between her thighs, but each time Blake said “I don’t mind if you don’t.” and Yang let her hand fall back to her side.   
  
Blake scrubbed Yang’s hand, and forearm, and the stump of her right arm where the prosthetic arm was usually attached. This last drew a question from Blake: “Is it tender?” she asked, before touching it with the soapy loofah. Yang tilted her head side to side, a noncommittal answer, and so Blake was more gentle but still thorough in her cleaning.

After a time, Yang’s body was free of any ash residue, her skin pink and fresh from Blake’s scrubbing. Blake reached past her, and shut off the shower water, opening the door. She turned back to Yang, blushing slightly. “I should have asked  _ before _ getting in the shower; do you have extra towels in your hall closet?”

Yang nodded, eyes still somewhat confused, but lips quirking towards what could almost be considered a very small smirk. Blake darted out of the shower and over the tile, trying to not get it too wet, before quickly returning with a towel for herself from the hall closet. 

She dried her own body quickly, before taking Yang’s towel off of it’s hook behind the bathroom door and drying the other woman. As she did so, she spoke again, still soft and gentle.

“Unless my math is wrong, you’ve been going for almost eighteen hours since you woke up. And I’m guessing that you missed dinner tonight. Do you think you could eat something?” Yang peered at Blake, who was rubbing Yang’s hair dry, the towel periodically covering her face. Blake felt, more than saw, Yang shake her head side to side. She moved the towel down to start drying Yang’s neck and chest. “Ok then, we’ll skip dinner.”

After most of Yang’s body was dried, Blake led her into the bedroom, and had her sit on top of her towel while she knelt down and used the extra from the hall closet to dry off her legs and feet. It was dark, the only illumination coming from the hall light. She stood and finished drying her own hair and body, keeping eye contact with Yang the entire time. When she was sufficiently dry, she motioned Yang towards her pillows, “Alright, get in bed.” and turned to shut off the hall light.

Yang crawled under her covers, and let out a small gasp as Blake walked back towards the bed and did so too. Blake chose not to address it, instead situating herself on her back, and then pulling Yang over to her, placing the other woman’s head on her shoulder, and Yang’s arm across her stomach.

“Is this ok?” Blake asked, quietly. The only light in the room was from Yang’s alarm clock, and the light of the moon, shining in through the window. Blake felt a nod on her chest, and settled her left arm around Yang’s shoulders.

They lay there, in silence, for a while, until,   
  
“It was a house fire.”

Blake didn’t say anything in response, but moved her hand up to Yang’s hair, and began stroking it, slowly, as she continued talking, her voice rough and low.

“We got there at the same time as the first fire engine was getting people out of the building. It was- the house belonged to a family.”

The moonlight gave a shaft of illumination across their entwined bodies, landing on Blake’s face but leaving Yang’s in shadow. Looking outside, Blake could see the stars surrounding the moon in the night sky. She continued caressing Yang’s hair.

Yang swallowed, hard, and continued. “The fire crew got both kids out first, a young boy and his older sister… they were 5 and 7.” Blake’s arm tightened around Yang’s shoulders as she continued talking. “Their dad got out next, but,” and Yang’s voice broke on the last word and suddenly she was crying, tears streaming down her face. Blake continued brushing her fingers through Yang’s hair, murmuring soft comforts and assurances as the blonde woman finally let out all the tension she’d been holding in. Yang’s crying escalated to full on sobbing, and Blake sat up more, pulling Yang into her lap to lean against her body, holding the other woman as close as she could.

“I just-” Yang managed, as her sobs eventually subsided back to quieter tears. “I saw when the three of them realized the mom” and her voice broke slightly on the word ‘mom’ but she kept talking, “hadn’t gotten out and wasn’t getting out.”

Blake tightened her arms around Yang as they sat, huddled together in the soft moonlight.

“I just miss her so much.”

Blake’s heart broke for Yang, then; broke for a young girl who had lost not only a biological mother who had left her, but had also lost, from all accounts, a wonderful and caring mom in Summer Rose. She moved her hand up to the nape of Yang’s neck, weaving her fingers among the shorter strands of hair.   
  
“You were about that age when she died, right?” Blake murmured, quietly. Yang nodded, with a sniffle. “What was she like?”   
  
And Yang told her; talked about how much Summer loved music, how many of her memories were full of her mother singing, either along to music or softly to herself. How she had teased Tai, how they would stand together and do the dishes after a family dinner. Talked about how often she baked, whether it was cookies, or cakes, or pies, about how at home she looked whirling back and forth in a kitchen.

Yang ran out words, ran out of things to say, and they were again sitting in stillness. At some point Ebony had jumped onto the bed next to them, and was curled up, asleep.

“She’d be proud of you, you know.” Yang turned at Blake’s words, twisting in her arms, and again, lilac eyes met amber. “You chose to go into a career helping people, you’ve helped Ruby grow into an amazing young woman, and… You’re just amazing, Yang. I hope you can see that, because I  _ know _ that she would.”

Yang stared into Blake’s eyes for what felt like eternity; just the two of them, there, in the dark. Then she leaned towards Blake, and pressed their lips together. It was a gentle kiss, with no intention or immediacy. Yang pulled back after only a moment, but leaned her forehead against Blake’s.

“Thank you. For… tonight.”

Blake nodded, slightly. “Of course, Yang.”

They continued to stare into each other’s eyes for another eternity. Blake felt like she had never  _ not _ been staring into Yang’s eyes.

Eventually, Yang’s eyes closed as she yawned, pulling her head away from Blake’s to do so. Blake laughed, softly.

“Alright, let’s try to get you some sleep, ok?”

The two women slid back down into lying positions; Yang was on her side, and pulled Blake close, until they were spooning.

“...Is this ok?” Yang’s voice was quiet, raspy now from crying instead of disuse. Blake nodded, hummed an affirmative.

They fell asleep there, as wisps of cloud streamed across the moon overhead in the night sky.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Blake woke up at six AM. Yang’s arm was still slung across her midsection. She turned her head to look at the other woman; lilac eyes stared back at her. Blake leaned her head back, nudging Yang’s chin.

“S’creepy to watch someone sleep, you know.”

Yang chuckled, quietly. “Good morning to you too.”

Through the window, the sky was still dark, with only a hint of sunlight appearing on the highest clouds to indicate that sunrise wasn’t far off. Blake rolled over to face Yang.

“You end up getting any sleep?”

Yang made a face. “Some. Not as much as I-” her sentence was cut off by a long yawn. “-as I’d like.” She moved her arm from Blake’s side, tucking her hand under her head. “You gonna head out?”

Blake repeated her question from the night before. “Do you want me to go?”

As before, Yang’s brow furrowed at the question, but she was quicker to answer. “No, I just… You usually go.”

Blake nodded, but she held Yang’s eye contact. “Yeah.” The both lay there, in the early morning quiet, watching each other. Eventually, Blake spoke again. “Do you think you’re gonna get any more sleep?”

Yang shook her head slightly. “Probably not.”

Blake nodded. “Ok, let’s get some breakfast in you then.” She flung the covers off the two of them, to a dramatic groan from Yang, which she ignored.

After slipping back into her clothing from last night, Blake headed for the kitchen. As she cracked some eggs into a skillet, Yang leaned against the entryway to the kitchen, watching her. The taller woman had tossed on a hoodie, and periodically shivers ran down her bare legs.

Yang cleared her throat, and spoke. “You don’t… You don’t have to make me breakfast, Blake. I’ll eat. I’m fine, now.”

Blake nodded down at the scrambled eggs she was mixing, sprinkling salt and pepper as she did so. “I know. I just wanted to.”

The kitchen was quiet except for the eggs, sizzling in the pan, and the soft  _ crunch-crunch _ of Ebony eating his breakfast. Blake broke the silence. “If you’re cold, you should go put on sweats.” She turned her face to Yang. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

There was a stretch where neither of them moved. Blake started to worry that she might have said too much, overstepped this invisible boundary between them, but then Yang turned, and walked into her bedroom. When she returned, it was wearing dark grey sweatpants, and with her prosthesis reattached to her arm. She moved past her original spot and the entrance to the kitchen, and quickly into Blake’s space; Blake let out a soft gasp as Yang pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Thank you, Blake.”

And then Yang was moving past her, to the cupboard across from the fridge, getting out two plates, and grabbing bread to put two pieces into the toaster. By the time Blake finished the eggs, Yang had even filled up two glasses of water and set them next to the plates on the kitchen counter.

They ate there, standing in the kitchen, as the morning light slowly illuminated the dark sky. Blake asked if Yang had to go into work, and Yang answered that yes, she did, she needed to show her boss she was ok, as she’d promised she would be, and probably fill out some paperwork she’d skimped on last night. As Blake nibbled on the last of her toast, Yang took her plate and stacked it in the sink, and left to get changed. When she came out to grab her backpack and jacket, Blake had slipped her shoes on and was petting Ebony, who was rolled onto his back on the couch beside her.

Yang smiled down at them, “That cat is spoiled for attention whenever you’re around. You’re making him more needy when it’s just me here, you know.”

Blake stopped brushing Ebony’s belly fur, much to the cat’s audible dismay, and stood, a haughty look on her face. “Well, maybe you just don’t give him enough attention. You ever thought of that?”

Yang laughed, and shoved Blake gently, who was unable to keep her grin covered up. Yang opened the door for her, gesturing like some fancy valet at a restaurant, and Blake thanked her with as much flowery vocabulary as she could. It was easy banter between them, as it always had been.

Yang followed Blake to the car, and when the banter died off, carefully grabbed Blake’s face with her hands, and gave her a kiss. It was slow, and languid, and Blake felt slightly dizzy when the blonde finally pulled back.

“Have a good day, Blake.”

Blake managed a shy smile in response, words being temporarily beyond her reach, and then Yang turned and walked to her motorcycle, and Blake got into Weiss’ car, and if Blake’s face held that smile for the entire drive back to the Manor, well, that was her business and no one else’s.


	13. 31 Days A.W.

_ 31 Days A.W. _

  
  


Almost as soon as she’d reached the Manor that morning, Blake began to second guess her actions of the night before. But then Yang texted her at lunch, like everything was normal, and then again after work, and Blake began to relax. Two days later, Yang texted her at noon, with a selfie of herself in a bikini in her bathroom mirror and the caption “pool?”. Blake was out of the Manor only minutes later.

They didn’t make it to the pool that day. Or that night.

Blake left Yang’s apartment at six AM the next morning, before the other woman had woken up.

Blake’s doubts about that night faded to the back of her mind; Yang was acting like she had been before, so things were fine. That logic made sense to Blake. And it continued to make sense for an entire week, until Ruby and Weiss arrived back at the Manor.

They arrived home almost  _ exactly _ when Weiss said they would be, which was only impressive because her estimate had been ‘3:28 PM on Thursday’. Blake had been there at the door to greet them, and prove that nothing in the house was broken or damaged. She asked about the honeymoon, and was presented with  _ dozens _ of pictures of sunset vistas, of Ruby making ridiculous faces while on a bike, or in a zipline harness… It sounded like the honeymoon had been a fantastic success (which, knowing Weiss, wasn’t that much of a surprise). Ruby raved about the pool, about the view, and about Weiss; the two were still undeniably, adorably, almost sickeningly in love.

When Ruby excused herself to go carry their bags up to the master bedroom, Blake chatted some more with Weiss.

“I, uh, I actually had a job interview two days ago. And… they called me yesterday to say they wanted to hire me.”   
  
Weiss’ face broke out in a broad grin. “Blake, that’s  _ amazing! _ I’m so proud of you!” The shorter woman rushed around the kitchen island to grab Blake in a fierce hug. “So where is it? When do you start?”

Blake smiled, scratching the back of her neck. “It’s that new combination bookstore/cafe place downtown? Actually just a few blocks from that library… Anyways, they said they wanted me in on Monday morning, so…”   
  
Weiss’s smile somehow grew. “Blake, that’s  _ great _ . They’re lucky to have you.” Blake nodded in response, not knowing what else to say to such effusive praise. After a beat of the two women just smiling at each other in the Manor kitchen, Blake gestured towards the stairs.   
  
“I’m gonna go shower, it’s been a real lazy day for me so far.”   
  
Weiss shooed her out of the kitchen. “As it should be on a vacation! Go, take a long shower, you deserve relaxation time!”

When Blake got out of the shower, she heard some muffled voices floating to her through the air vent in the bathroom. Taking a moment to remind herself that Ruby and Weiss were home, that this was  _ their _ house, she was about to leave the bathroom when Ruby’s voice became slightly clearer.   
  
“...just worry about you, Yang.”

Ruby was talking to Yang. Against her better judgement, Blake carefully sat down on the bathroom floor, bringing her head closer to the air vent in the wall.

“...Yes I  _ know _ it’s been four years Yang, I  _ know _ that people can change, and I’m not saying she hasn’t! I’m just- do you remember what you were  _ like _ four years ago, after she left? You could barely get out of  _ bed _ some days! I just want to be sure that you’re taking care of yourself, Yang, and jumping into bed with someone who’s been out of your life for four years sounds like maybe you’re  _ not _ !”

Blake clenched her jaw. Ruby was talking to Yang  _ about Blake _ . Ruby was talking to Yang about Blake and Yang sleeping together, which meant that Yang had talked to  _ Ruby _ about Blake and Yang sleeping together.

Blake was glad she was already sitting, as the walls of the bathroom seemed to spin and close in around her. Taking a few deep breaths, she stood and opened the door to her bedroom; maybe it was the leftover steam from her shower that was making her light headed.

Her bedroom seemed smaller than before, smaller than it had seemed earlier that morning when she woke up. The billowing curtains seemed to flutter into her personal space, she felt like she was jostling up against the bed only inches after bumping slightly against the dresser, jostling the clock, which read 5:28 PM. She sat down on the bed, heavily, and put her head in her hands. One thought ran through her head like a mantra.

_ I can’t be here right now _ .

And so, throwing on the first outfit she could grab, Blake gave into her instincts, and fled the Manor. Weiss managed to grab her, momentarily, at the front door.   
  
“Blake, are you- what’s going on?”

Blake’s eyes may have been watery, but she at least managed to keep her voice steady as she responded and yanked her arm out of Weiss’ grip. “Do you know, too? Did Yang tell both of you, or just Ruby?”

Weiss’ eyes crinkled slightly in a guilty look for an instant before her professional mask slipped into place. Before the white-haired woman could respond, Blake barreled forward. “So both of you. Well tell Ruby I’m glad she’s so concerned with Yang’s well-being, I really am. I’m going out drinking to celebrate getting a new job, I’ll be back later.” She turned and stalked down the front steps, towards Weiss’ car. She didn’t look back at Weiss as she pulled out of the drive and headed into the city.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She realized she’d left her phone back at the Manor only moments  _ after  _ she realized she had locked the car keys inside of the car she’d just parked. Blake had driven to the one location she could find her way to on memory, the library near downtown, and parked there, intending to walk until she found a bar.

And, presented with a sudden inability to drive anywhere else  _ or _ contact anyone, that’s exactly what she did. She had entertained the idea of screaming at the heavens as loudly as she could, in frustration, but eventually discarded it, chose a direction, and started walking away from the library. The problems of lack of transportation and communication were problems she could solve in the future. Right now the problem she needed to solve was that her brain was too loud, too full of noise.

She passed three bars until she found one she liked; the first she passed looked too upscale, too ‘hip’, and a bit too crowded. The second was all pub-themed, with a name like ‘The Angry Bulldog’ or something; not her scene. The third was a jazz bar, tempting, but looked  _ wildly _ out of her price range; she saw a couple enter it both wearing tuxedos, and decided to press on.

The bar she eventually settled on was a small one; she almost missed the entrance. But down a flight of stairs, underneath a coffee shop, Blake found a hole-in-the-wall spot that was dimly lit, not too loud, and sparsely populated. She sat in the seat furthest from the door, partially obscured by hanging glasses and the curve of the bar, and ordered a double shot of tequila from the bartender.

The bartender seemed about to comment on Blake’s drink choice, but once they made eye contact the bartender’s jaw snapped shut, she took Blake’s card to start a tab, and she poured Blake a generous double shot of tequila, which she downed. Blake followed the first shot with an order for a second double, and a tequila sunrise. She downed the second shot, began to drink her cocktail, and tried to focus on the music being played through the speakers.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Blake was drunk. There was no use denying it; despite not standing from her seat in the hours she’d been at the bar, she was definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol on her system. She also needed to relieve herself. With a sigh, she stood up from the bar, ignoring the way the room tilted precipitously, and made her way to the bathroom.

When she made her way back to her seat, however, there was a man in the seat next to her, and two drinks in front of him on the bar. With a skeptical frown on her face, Blake reclaimed her seat. He leaned closer to her, and the scent of cheap aftershave and beer wafted towards her.

“I wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”

Blake made a noncommittal grunt, and tried to get the bartender’s attention to order a drink. He slid one of the two drinks in front of him towards her, and she responded by giving him the most suspicious look she could muster. It didn’t seem to phase him.

“What, you think I’m gonna drug you or something? Relax, it’s just another tequila sunrise; the bartender said you liked them.”

Blake’s intention immediately switched to ordering a drink made from whiskey, and she continued her attempts to get the bartender to return to this end of the bar. She was entirely unprepared for the man to lean suddenly into her personal space, grabbing her arm and whispering in her ear. “C’mon my darling, it’ll be fun.”

He wasn’t Adam, he wasn’t actually grabbing Blake’s arm  _ that _ tight, and, rationally, she wasn’t in any actual danger. But, that had been what Adam had always called her.

Luckily, Blake was drunk enough to ignore her gut reaction, which was to freeze and panic; she grabbed the tequila sunrise from the bar and threw it in his face, jerking out of his grip, while shouting, “Fuck  _ off _ !” The shout, in retrospect, may have been a bit much, as the entire bar seemed to be staring at her. On the bright side, the bartender had  _ also _ taken notice of her, and had her tab closed out by the time her gaze roamed back to the bar from its journey around the room; Blake scribbled out a passing imitation of her signature, grabbed her card off of the bar, and swept outside before the silence following her shout had fully dissipated.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Blake wasn’t sure, to be honest, where she’d found a liquor store. But she’d clearly found one, as she was holding a bottle of tequila, and had found the receipt in her purse.

She was  _ also _ unsure how she’d managed to make it to Yang’s neighborhood, but here she was, sitting on the curb across the street from Yang’s apartment building. She could see the front window of Yang’s apartment; the lights were on, and she could even see Ebony’s silhouette in front of the curtains.

Apparently, the liquor store had been about a half-bottle away from Yang’s. Or maybe she had spilled some, she wasn’t sure if she would still be conscious if she’d drank half of a bottle of tequila. She took another gulp from the bottle; either this was  _ great _ tequila, or she was  _ very _ drunk. Either way, it  _ tasted _ great. A chill wind whipped past her, carrying dust and some small trash down Yang’s street in a flurry of activity.

God, she had to pee again. And it was cold out here. Yang’s apartment was probably warm, and  _ definitely _ had a bathroom. Why wasn’t she drinking in  _ there _ ?

Blake tried to stand up from the curb, but slipped and pitched forward somehow. Luckily, she caught herself on her left hand to keep from crashing face-first into the ground; even luckier she only spilled a  _ bit _ of the tequila when she did so. Quicker than she realized, she was standing in front of Yang’s door. How many times did normal people knock? Two times?   
  
Blake knocked twice, but that didn’t seem like enough times, so she knocked again, but then wanted to knock an even number of times, so she knocked a  _ fourth _ time, and  _ then _ it just felt right to knock two  _ more _ times, but luckily Yang pulled the door open after the fifth knock.

“What is- Blake?”

Blake leaned against the wall outside Yang’s apartment, trying to look casual. “Hey Yang, how’s  _ your _ night goin’?” She gave her best sultry look as she leaned against the wall.

It seemed to work; Yang reached out and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her into the apartment. “Christ, Blake, where have you  _ been _ ? Do you know what time it is?” Blake shook her head as Yang shut the door.

“Nope.” she said, popping the p at the end of the word. “My watch is my phone and my phone’s  _ usually _ in my purse but my phone’s  _ not _ in my purse because I left it at the Manor and so I don’t have it and so I don’t know what time it is. Anyways, can I use your bathroom oh  _ hiiiii Ebony _ .” Blake attempted to lean down to greet the cat, but Yang had finished closing the door behind her, and stopped her from falling onto the floor; she also took the bottle of tequila from her hand. “Hey,” Blake protested, but Yang seemed to ignore her.

“Did you drink all of this tequila? And what did you do to your  _ hand _ ? And how did you get here?”

Blake glanced down at where Yang was holding her hand; her left hand was a mess of abrasions and was covered in blood, with bits of gravel visible on it.   
  
“Oh, I was- I had to stand up, and then I almost fell but I  _ didn’t _ and I didn’t even spill any of the tequila, or at least not much, but I stopped myself from falling. And I locked Weiss’ keys inside Weiss’ car at the library where I parked, which was dumb, just like me.”

Blake felt faintly proud of avoiding falling, but Yang, for some reason, seemed less than pleased. She guided Blake rather forcefully over to the couch, and sat her down.

“Here, just- Sit here, I’ll be right back.” Yang disappeared in the direction of the bedroom, and Blake immediately stood up from the couch. Where had Yang put that tequila? Maybe in the kitchen. She was in the kitchen, rooting through the freezer, when Yang returned from the bedroom.   
  
“Blake, why are you in the kitchen?” Yang sounded upset, which Blake  _ hated _ . Was she upset because Blake hadn’t stayed on the couch? Blake tried to push past the blonde woman, to head back to the couch, but Yang caught her upper arm, halting her in her tracks.   
  
“I was just looking for the tequila because I like tequila which is why I got it but I didn’t see it in your freezer which is really where to keep vodka  _ not _ tequila, but I just wanted to look to find it but I didn’t so I’ll go back to the couch now I’m sorry.” Blake felt bad. There was  _ nothing _ worse than upset Yang, her eyes lost that sparkle that they always had, and her shoulder would slump.

Yang was handing her a glass of water. “Here, Blake, drink this.”

Blake rolled her eyes “Ok  _ mom _ , I will.” She drank half the glass of water; god, she  _ was _ thirsty though. What was Yang doing with her phone?

Yang pressed a final button on her phone, and put it on the counter; Blake heard it ring and realized it was on speaker phone. She looked over at Yang with wide eyes; the blonde woman brought her closer to the sink, pulling her by her left hand. “I’ve gotta clean your hand, otherwise it might get infected, ok?” Blake nodded, listening to Yang’s phone ring on the counter.

The ringing stopped, and Ruby’s voice filled Yang’s kitchen, filled with worry. “Yang? What’s up?” Blake’s face lit up; she liked Ruby, this was  _ great _ , but Yang pressed a finger to her lips, which Blake mirrored. Be quiet, Blake could do that.

“Hi Rubes, I know it’s late,” Blake glanced at the oven clock, and when the numbers stopped dancing it looked like it read 11:52; that couldn’t be right. “But I just wanted to call and say that Blake’s here, she’s safe, if  _ very _ drunk.”

Blake couldn’t resist an intro like that; if ever there was a time to break her silence in this conversation, it was  _ now _ . “Hi Ruby!” She waved at the phone, for effect. Yang rubbed a hand over her face, looking slightly put out.   
  
There was a beat, then Ruby’s voice came from the phone again. “...Hi, Blake. Wow, she  _ does _ sound drunk. You sure you’ve got her? I could drive over there, or-”

Yang cut her sister off. “Nah, it’s fine, she just needs water and sleep and someone to be awake when she vomits later, I can do that, it’s my day off tomorrow.”

Blake was distracted from the conversation by a tickling sensation on her calves; looking down at the kitchen floor, Ebony was rubbing up against her, and staring up at her. She waved down at him, and, although he meowed back, she wasn’t sure if the message of greeting really crossed the species barrier.

When she tuned back in to what Yang was doing, the blonde woman was pressing ‘End Call’ on her phone. “Is Ruby alright? Why did you call her if it’s really-” Blake squinted at the oven clock, there was  _ no _ way it was really that late, “eleven fifty three?”

Yang sighed, and started running warm water out of the faucet. She gently took Blake’s left hand, and guided it under the flow of water, brushing bits of dirt and gravel out of her hand. “I called her because she and Weiss called  _ me _ , a few hours ago, worried about where you’d gotten to.”

Blake frowned. That’s  _ right _ , she  _ had _ left the Manor earlier… She tried to jerk her hand out of Yang’s grasp, but only succeeded in moving it slightly. “You told them about  _ us _ .”

Yang gave a sigh, and continued cleaning Blake’s hand. “Yes, I talked to my sister about the woman I’ve been sleeping with and spending most of my free time with.”   
  
Blake frowned, and let Yang continue to rinse off her hand. When she put it like that, it made more sense. Yang turned off the water, and Blake realized for the first time that the taller woman had brought her first aid kit with her into the kitchen. Blake dutifully held still while Yang opened it, and removed some bandages and hydrogen peroxide.   
  
“Why didn’t you ask me before you told her?”

Yang sighed, again, and poured some hydrogen peroxide over Blake’s hand, rubbing her wrist as Blake jerked at the sharp pain of disinfectant on an open wound. “I was going to talk to you about it, but… I didn’t want to scare you off.”

Blake’s brow furrowed more. Would she have been scared off? It was hard to say; Blake had never been great with hypotheticals. Yang continued.   
  
“Can we not talk about this while you’re drunk? I want to  _ actually  _ have this conversation.”

Blake nodded, contrite. Yang was clearly upset, probably disappointed in Blake. And who wouldn’t be? She’d disappeared for, what, six hours almost? And then barged into Yang’s apartment, apropos of nothing? What if Yang had worked tomorrow, and Blake had still barged in, disrupting her sleep? What if-

Blake’s train of thought was derailed by Yang grabbing her chin, gently, and lifting her gaze to meet hers. “Hey, why’d you get all quiet?”

Blake tried to look away, to hide the tears that were suddenly swimming in her eyes. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to deal with my hand, it’s not that bad,” she tried again to pull away, but Yang’s grip on her wrist was firm, and she barely moved the other woman’s arm. “I’m sorry I just showed up here in the middle of the night, I’m sorry, I should go…”

Yang pressed one of her fingers against Blake’s lips, halting her babbling speech. “Blake. It’s fine. I’m glad you’re here.”

Wide amber eyes stared back at gentle lilac ones. “...Are you sure? It’s late, you were probably sleeping, or-”

Yang pressed her finger back to Blake’s lips. “I wasn’t sleeping, Blake. I was sitting on my couch, worried about  _ you _ .” She dropped her hand from Blake’s face, and started gently wrapping a bandage around Blake’s palm. Blake’s frown deepened. She looked down at the counter.

“I’m sorry I made you worry about me.” She mumbled out between her lips. Yang just laughed and continued wrapping gauze around her hand.

“Blake, you can’t control who worries about you unless you don’t do things like go out drinking without your phone. At least you didn’t drive drunk, but-” Yang paused in her bandaging, and looked at Blake’s face. “How far did you walk to get here?”

Blake shrugged, still looking at the counter. “I dunno. I parked by the library, and went to a downstairs bar near there? I don’t really remember getting here…”

Yang stared at her for a long moment, then finished bandaging up her hand. She pressed a kiss to the outside of the finished bandage, which sent a flurry of butterflies straight to Blake’s stomach;  _ god _ Yang was gorgeous.

“Blake, that’s like a forty-five minute walk. You walked that whole way?”

Blake shrugged, still not meeting Yang’s eyes. “I was at the bar, and this guy was hitting on me, and I didn’t want to be there anymore… I dunno. I just sort of ended up here, I guess. Thanks for bandaging my hand.” Blake pulled on her hand for a third time, and this time Yang relinquished her grip, letting Blake pull her hand close into her chest.

They stood, barely a foot apart, in Yang’s kitchen. Outside, the wind howled past, and Blake thought she heard some rain starting to come down on Yang’s windows.

“Are Ruby and Weiss mad at me?” Blake was embarrassed for asking such a childish question, but it was all she could think about; Ruby hadn’t  _ sounded _ upset, but her sister would know how she was feeling better than Blake would.

Yang pulled her close into an embrace; Blake took a deep breath, inhaling Yang’s scent. The woman smelled like sweat after exercise, like fresh citrus, like sunshine on a lazy day. She spoke into the top of Blake’s head.   
  
“They’re not  _ mad _ at you, Blake, they just  _ care _ about you. You stormed out of the Manor, and then they didn’t have any way to reach you. After you didn’t come back they just got worried.”

Blake nodded into Yang’s shoulder. She was suddenly reminded of what had spurred her into Yang’s apartment, and spoke into the other woman’s shirt, her voice slightly muffled. “I have to pee.”

Blake felt Yang smile into her hair. “Then go pee, Blake. You know where the bathroom is.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Blake struggled washing her hands; should she get the bandages Yang had just applied wet? Probably not… Eventually she settled for scrubbing the fingers of her left hand, and clumsily using only them to wash her entire right hand. That would have to be enough for tonight.

Blake stepped out of the bathroom, and walked down the hallway towards the kitchen and front room of Yang’s apartment; Yang was leaning against the counter, her eyes already on Blake when she turned the corner into line of sight. Blake blushed, slightly; as always, the attention Yang gave her was palpable, almost physical in its intensity.

“Thanks for, uh, letting me use your bathroom. Sorry I woke you up.”

Yang shook her head. “I said, Blake, you didn’t wake me up, I hadn’t gone to bed yet.”

Blake stood, hesitantly, in the hallway, staring into Yang’s eyes.

“I should go.”

Yang frowned, then, a quick look of disappointment followed by a neutral look almost quick enough for Blake to believe she’d imagined the frown.

“Back to the Manor? I can drive you.”

Blake shook her head, more vigorously than she intended. “No, it’s fine, I-”

Yang stood straight from the kitchen counter, and stepped closer to Blake. “Blake. It’s midnight. I’m not going to let you  _ walk _ to the Manor; it’s an hour walk away, and even if it was daylight I’d offer to give you a ride.”

Blake frowned down at the carpet. “...I don’t want to bother you. I just showed up at your apartment, without saying anything…”

Yang took a step closer. “...Do you  _ want _ to go back to the Manor? You’re welcome to stay here, Blake.”

Blake’s heart swelled, but again she shook her head, gaze still lingering on the carpet. “I don’t wanna put you out, or crowd you, or cramp your style or whatever…”

Yang had continued to approach Blake, slowly, and was within touching distance; she reached out, and cupped Blake’s chin, lifting it to bring their eyes in line with each other.

“You aren’t inconveniencing me, Blake. I promise. What do  _ you _ want to do?”

Blake felt like she wanted to look away, but simultaneously like she was falling, deeper and deeper into Yang’s eyes. The sounds of the wind and rain outside seemed to fade away, the spinning hallway around her stilled, and the only thing she could focus on was Yang’s face, the tender way Yang was looking at her.

“...I wanna stay here, with you. And Ebony. I like it here”

Yang smiled, then, a small smile, like the sun shining out from behind the clouds, and nodded. “Then you can stay here, Blake.”

Blake surged forward, mashing their lips together. A squeak of surprise escaped Yang’s lips, but then she was kissing Blake back, hands pressing along Blake’s ribs and neck. Blake let out a soft whimper into Yang’s mouth.

And then Yang was pulling away. Blake frowned, and tried to pursue her mouth, but Yang stopped her with a hand over her mouth, laughing softly.

“Blake, I  _ love _ kissing you, but you are too drunk, ok?”

Blake’s frown deepened. “We’ve been drunk together and had sex though…”

Yang smiled, and pressed the half-empty glass of water back into Blake’s hand. “I know, sweetie, but we were  _ both _ drunk. And even  _ then _ you weren’t this drunk. I’m surprised you’re still upright.”

Blake looked at the glass of water skeptically. “...What if  _ you _ got drunk? Then we could kiss…” She trailed off as Yang laughed, louder than before. A blush rose in Blake’s cheeks.

Yang leaned close and pressed a kiss to Blake’s forehead. “How about this; I’ll give you a kiss after you finish that glass of water, after you finish another one, and before we fall asleep, ok?”

Blake supposed that sounded alright. Not  _ ideal _ , but if that was the deal Yang was offering, she’d take it.


	14. 32 Days A.W.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Nightmares, Physical Abuse, Violence

_ 32 Days A.W. _

  
  


“Come here, my darling.”

Blake knew that tone of voice; that was the tone of voice Adam used whenever he was  _ really _ displeased with her. But the thing he hated above all else was disobedience, and so she crossed the room to him.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Yang, Blake. You  _ know  _ I don’t like that girl.” He grabbed her wrist, almost feather-light. Blake knew it was only because he knew she wouldn’t pull away from his grasp.

“We- we’re just roommates, Adam. It’s hard to stay away from her when we live in the same apartment.” Her body was shaking, she was fighting to keep her arm still. Adam hated it when she was scared.

He slapped her then, his hand coming up so fast it was almost hard to see. Her head was still reeling from the hit when he slapped her again, the same hand crossing back across his body to backhand her so hard she staggered. She tasted iron.

“I- I’m sorry, Adam, I’ll spend less-”

He hit her in the side, then. Knuckles protruding from a clenched hand, he struck her in the side, under her ribs. She collapsed onto the floor, his other hand now a vice grip on her arm, holding it awkwardly over her head.

“She’s just your roommate? Blake I know that you’re  _ fucking _ that bitch.” He spat the words out, like they had personally disappointed him. Blake’s head swam.

“N-no, we’re not- Adam, please, I  _ swear _ , it’s not like that!”

His grip tightened on her hand, and he pulled on her arm, dragging her back to her feet.

“I  _ know _ that you’re fucking her. In that cute second story apartment of hers, with her cat. Don’t  _ lie _ to me Blake!”

Blake was crying, tears streaming down her face. “Sh- She’s not- It’s nothing, Adam, I’ll stop, I’ll stop for you, you know that I love you.”

He turned Blake around, and Yang was there; she was seated in a chair, tied to the back of it. She had a black eye, and cuts all across her face. Her prosthetic arm was on the floor, bent and crushed. Her eyes looked at the floor.

“This is  _ your fault _ , Blake, I want you to remember that. If you had not  _ lied  _ to me, if you had been a  _ better person _ , this wouldn’t be happening.” He was walking towards Yang, looking almost sorrowfully back at Blake, a machete held low at his side. “You remember that, Blake. This,  _ all _ of this,” and he gestured around him, and suddenly the apartment they were in was on fire, the air was smokey and Blake was coughing, having trouble breathing, the fire was roaring in her ears, “...it was all your fault.”

He stabbed Yang, and Blake screamed, but it sounded so quiet in her ears. He stabbed the blonde again, and again Blake screamed; Yang’s eyes lifted to meet her’s, and Blake could see the sharp glitter of the fire reflected in them.

“Blake,” Yang said, and Blake could hear it, could hear her over the roaring of the fire. Adam stabbed her a third time, and Blake screamed so loud she felt her chest ache with the effort.

“ _ BLAKE _ !”

Blake shot upright in Yang’s bed, drenched in cold sweat, stomach churning. It was dark, how was it dark, where was the fire? Someone was calling her name; Blake’s face was forcibly turned and she was face to face with a very worried looking Yang. But Yang’s face wasn’t covered in cuts, there was no black eye…

All of those thoughts were pushed violently to the side in lieu of a much more pressing one; Blake was about to vomit. Apparently her eyes widening suddenly clued Yang in, because before she could there was a trash can in her lap, and then Yang was holding her hair, and rubbing her back, as she threw up what felt like her entire digestive system into the trash.

After an entire year of vomiting, or maybe only a few minutes, Blake felt well enough to lift her head off the rim of the trash can. Yang looked back at her, face awash with worry. Blake lifted a hand, and caressed the woman’s cheek with her knuckle.

“You’re ok…”

Yang gave her a sad smile. “ _ I’m _ ok? I’m not the one who just threw up half their body weight in tequila after waking up from a screaming nightmare. I’m  _ fine _ Blake, I’m just- are  _ you _ ok?”

Blake’s head was swimming, and it felt like the bed was gently spinning. “What time is it?”

Yang glanced at the clock. “It’s almost five in the morning; you’ve been asleep for about four hours.”

Blake frowned. “That’s… that’s not enough sleep.”

Yang shook her head, smiling fondly. “No, Blake, it’s not. You still need the trash can?” Blake shook her head, and the blonde placed it back onto the floor beside the bed. There was a glass of water on the bedside table near Blake; she grabbed it, and sipped gingerly at the water. Her stomach didn’t  _ immediately _ reject it, which she counted as a victory.

“You wanna talk about it?” Blake looked up from her glass of water, up into pale lilac eyes. “Your dream.”

Blake briefly considered denying she’d had a nightmare; it must have shown on her face because Yang continued. “Blake, you were muttering in your sleep, and thrashing from side to side, and then you started yelling, and then you screamed my name and sat bolt upright.”

Blake clenched her jaw and looked down, towards her feet. Outside, the sounds of wind and rain could be heard, muffled through the closed window. She felt hot, sickly, like she had a fever;  _ why _ had she started drinking again?

After a few moments, Yang sighed. “I’m gonna take this down to the dumpster,” she gestured at the trash can full of Blake’s sick, “, you try to drink some more water, ok?” Blake nodded, and Yang got out of the bed, carrying the trash can with her as she left the room.

Blake took another sip of water, but it tasted like the inside of her mouth, which tasted like vomit. Maybe a trip to the bathroom, to rinse her mouth out? Blake looked at the bedroom door, and it swam back and forth in her vision; standing, let alone walking, sounded a bit too challenging for her. With a huff, Blake drew her legs up to her chest, hugging them, and rested her head atop her knees.

“You doing ok?” Blake’s eyes flashed up to the doorway, where Yang was standing. Her hair was slightly wet from the rain outside. The room felt like it was gently spinning.

“...Could you open the window a bit? It feels stuffy in here…”

Yang nodded, and crossed to her window, opening it, and instantly Blake felt a gust of cool, damp air flow into the room, and over her sweaty skin. Yang climbed back into bed, leaning back against the headboard, and started rubbing Blake’s back again.

“It was about Adam.”

Blake wasn’t sure Yang heard her whispered confession, except that the circles the woman had been rubbing on her back paused momentarily, before continuing.

“Your nightmare?”

Blake nodded, eyes staring at Yang’s comforter, but not seeing it. “It was… It was like we were back together, he was mad at me again. He hit me. And then there was fire, and he kept hitting me, and then you were there, and he-” Blake’s voice broke on the word, and she quite literally bit her tongue to keep a sob from escaping her mouth. She hadn’t realized that tears were streaking down her cheeks, when had she started crying?

Yang stopped rubbing circles on her back, instead scooting closer and pulling Blake into an embrace; Blake had meant only to lean into the embrace, but then Yang was wiping her tears away and she lost all sense of decorum. She clutched at Yang’s night shirt, and the sobs she had tried to keep inside escaped her, and Yang was stroking her hair, murmuring sweet comforts in her ear, and Blake cried.

When she had calmed somewhat, she spoke again. “He had already beat you, your face was hurt, and then he was stabbing you. I was so  _ scared _ , Yang.”

Yang kept her firm hold on Blake, kept smoothing her hair. “It wasn’t real, Blake. I’m right here, Adam is still in jail a continent away. I’m right here, I’m fine.”

Blake stayed leaning against Yang, pressed into her side, until sleep took her again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Blake drifted back into consciousness to the sound of music, muffled by her bedroom door. It was still raining; the alarm clock read 11:27, but the sky outside was grey and dark. Most pressingly, Blake was also  _ very _ hungover.

On the bedside table near her was a glass of water, on top of a post-it which read ‘DRINK ME’, and two painkillers on a post-it which read ‘SWALLOW US’. Blake appreciated Yang’s simple instructions, and followed them.

After drinking the entire glass of water, and consuming both painkillers, Blake felt moderately more alive; she also felt a pressing urge to relieve her bladder, and so she swung her feet off the bed, and walked to the door. She pulled it open, and slipped into the bathroom. She could hear the music more clearly now, acoustic guitars dancing nimbly with some light horns; not Yang’s usual music.

Or, at least, not the usual music of Yang four years ago.

After completing her business in the bathroom, Blake splashed some water on her face. She felt disgusting. It was then that she noticed a post-it note, on top of the folded towel on the bathroom counter. ‘USE ME’ it read. Blake frowned down at the note, then left the bathroom.

When she entered the kitchen, she found Yang’s bluetooth speaker, playing the music. Next to it was Yang’s phone, and a note.

_ Blake _

_ I went to the store because I’d been putting off grocery shopping for too long, and wasn’t sure when you were going to wake up. I would’ve put it off more, but I needed more cat litter too, and that seemed like flirting with disaster. I should be back by 1. _

_ You are welcome to shower if you’d like; there’s also a new toothbrush in the bathroom drawer if you want to brush your teeth (I’m guessing you want to brush your teeth). If you want to go back to the Manor, my phone is unlocked and has the Lyft app installed, it’s on the front page. My card info is saved in the app; I can spot you the cost of a ride home, don’t worry. _

_ I trust you not to snoop through my photos or messages ;) _

_ Yang <3 _

Blake couldn’t help herself; she grabbed Yang’s phone, and pressed the power button on the side. Sure enough, it lit up with the home screen, the Lyft app presented so centrally that Blake felt that Yang had moved it for clarity.

Yang’s background wallpaper was the photo of the two of them, from the second dress fitting. The photo where she was gazing at Blake like she was some sort of god.

Blake set the phone back on the counter, and stared at it. Then, with a shake of her head, she walked back to the bathroom.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

One shower and a few teeth-brushings later, Blake was sitting on Yang’s couch, reading a book she’d pilfered off of Yang’s shelves. It wasn’t Blake’s usual fare, some historical fiction, but she was enjoying it fine.

She’d considered leaving, briefly, after her shower. But Ruby and Weiss were no doubt back at the Manor, and they would ask how things went with Yang, and an answer of ‘I’m not sure’ didn’t sound compelling, even to Blake.

Blake heard Yang’s motorcycle pull up to the apartment building; a glance out the window confirmed it was the blonde, and not another resident. Blake watched through the window as Yang removed bags of groceries from her bike’s saddlebags, and then began her way up the stairs.

The look of pleased surprise on Yang’s face when Blake opened the door for her was worth the awful hangover from the night before.

“Blake! You’re here.”

Blushing, Blake grabbed a bag from Yang’s over-ladden arms, and carried it into the kitchen. Yang’s phone was where she’d left it, near the speaker, which was still playing the same music. The note, Blake had taken, folded carefully, and placed in her purse.

Absent the knowledge of where individual items went, Blake simply started taking things out of the grocery bags, and placing them on the counter. “How was the store?”

“Oh, it was, uh, fine. I dunno, store-y. They had all the shit I wanted.” Yang shrugged, and started moving items from their places on the counter to where they belonged, whether that was in the fridge, or in a cabinet, or somewhere else on the counter.

Blake made a face when she pulled out a fresh box of trash can bags. “Sorry for last night. Dealing with a drunk mess is never fun.”

Yang laughed, and snatched the box out of Blake’s hands, tucking it away under the sink. “Drunk, yes, but mess? No more so than anyone when they’re drunk. Besides, it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve caught your vomit in a trash can.” She shot Blake a look.

Blake rolled her eyes in response. “God, you must hate me.”

Yang chuckled, and continued putting away groceries, but Blake suddenly realized that this was it;  _ this  _ was the conversation they’d been dancing around for over two months. The conversation that was, in all honesty, probably more like four  _ years _ overdue.

She paused the music. “No, really, how do you not hate me?”

Yang glanced up, a quip dying on her lips as she saw Blake’s face, full of uncertainty. She cocked her head, and leaned back against the counter. “Blake… How could I hate you?”

“I basically smashed into your apartment last night, drunker than I’ve been in  _ years _ , then woke up and vomited while next to you in bed. Did you even get any sleep last night?”

Yang rested her hands on the counter behind her, brow furrowing. “Everyone overindulges sometimes, you went harder than you meant to because you were dealing with some stress; if I recall correctly, you went out on a drinking binge because  _ I _ told my sister about us before talking to you to see if that was ok.”

Blake crossed her arms, jaw clenching. “Of  _ course _ it's ok, she’s your  _ sister _ and you guys are closer than close. I was just surprised, and she didn’t seem very happy talking to you on the phone about it.”

“She was just surprised too; it’s not every day you hear that your maids of honor are seeing each-other.”

Blake leveled a glare at Yang, who seemed genuinely surprised by its intensity. “Oh, she was just  _ surprised _ ? You don’t think she was trying to take care of you?”

Yang frowned back at Blake. “As I told my  _ little sister _ on the phone, I am  _ plenty _ capable of taking care of myself; I am a grown-ass woman, and I can make my own choices.”

“What about when those choices aren’t what are best for you?”

“Oh, so  _ I _ don’t get a say in what’s best  _ for me _ ?”

“Not when you’re too close to the issue!”

Yang leaned back, eyes narrowing at Blake. “ _ ‘The issue’ _ , what are you even talking abou-”

“I  _ LEFT _ , Yang!” Blake’s shout seemed to echo through the tiny apartment. “We were- God, we were close in college, everything was going great, and then I  _ ruined _ it. I  _ ruined your life _ with… With  _ Adam _ , and if that wasn’t enough, as if you  _ losing your home and your- everything you owned and your fucking  _ **_arm_ ** wasn’t enough, I just  _ left _ you. For  _ four years _ .  _ Four years! _ And now we’re- we’re what, we’re  _ fuck-buddies _ ? Friends with  _ benefits _ ? You think that’s what’s  _ best _ for you??”

Tears were welling in Blake’s eyes, but had yet to actually fall. Yang’s brow was still furrowed, like she was examining a difficult math problem, instead of a semi-hysterical woman standing in her kitchen. When Yang spoke, her words were quiet.

“Are you finished?”

Blake clenched her jaw, and looked off to the side. She willed her tears to not fall. She was surprised when Yang’s hand touched her cheek, guided her face back to front; the blonde woman had stepped closer, and had a tender look in her eyes. Her tone, when she spoke, was soothing.

“We were more than  _ close _ in college, Blake; you were my best friend. And you leaving was harder than anything else, harder than  _ everything _ else. All the stuff in the apartment was just  _ stuff _ , I got more.” Yang wiped a tear that had fallen down Blake’s cheek, and continued talking. “My arm was… trickier, let’s say. But I got through it, just like I got through being upset at you for leaving. Weiss helped a lot with that, actually. She said that you had your reasons, and that you did what you did because, even if I didn’t agree with you, you thought it was best.”

Yang wiped another tear from Blake’s cheek. “For the record, I didn’t and don’t agree with you; but  _ you _ decided to leave and that was  _ your _ choice. I’m ok with it now, I really am. I missed you, and I cried, but you had to find your own way.” Blake pressed her face into Yang’s hand, tried to let the physical contact calm her tears.

“You never told me much about Adam. I know it’s because he didn’t like you talking to me, not really, before the fire, and then after you were gone before I got out of the hospital, but…” Yang looked uneasy, but pressed on. “His lawyers tried for a mentally unstable plea, and part of their argument was… Part of their argument was that no mentally stable person would treat their partner like he treated you in your relationship. The things I heard him say up on that stand… Blake, I get why you had to get away from it, I do. I forgive you. I forgave you years ago.”

Yang pulled Blake close, into a hug; Blake tears had started falling faster, too fast for individual ones to be wiped away, even by someone as focused as Yang.

“So when you showed up in town for the wedding, I was happy. I had  _ missed _ you, Blake. And then suddenly you were back, and you looked  _ amazing _ , and we fell right back into our rhythm that we had… It felt so good, Blake. It… It woke up all the feelings I hadn’t acted on, hadn’t had the courage to act on, back in college.

“And then we danced at the wedding, and you said you were thinking about moving to Atlas, and my heart… I got so excited, Blake. I’d been dying to text you since the wedding, but couldn’t figure out a way to do it without revealing I’d gotten your number from Weiss before they left. And then you called, and you almost set the Manor kitchen on  _ fire _ , and…”

Yang pushed Blake away from the hug, back to a distance where they could see each other. Blake was struggling to deal with all this information, and struggled even more when she saw Yang’s eyes glistening with tears too.

“Blake, if all you want to be is friends with benefits, we can do that, but- When I’m  _ with _ you, Blake, I feel like I’m a better person. And you take  _ care _ of me, you make me want to try to  _ be _ a better person… I want this, whatever this is now, between us, to be more than just sex.”

Blake had no words to respond with, so she did the only thing she could think of; she lurched forward and crushed their lips together in a kiss, reaching up to tangle her hands through Yang’s hair.

Yang’s hands pressed against Blake’s ribcage, holding her close. She managed to continue speaking, between frenzied kisses. “So is… that a… ‘yes Yang I’d love to be your girlfriend’?”   
  
Blake pulled back from the kiss, laughter bubbling up behind her grin. “Do you always ask so officially, or do you save that for people who throw-up in your bed?”

Yang rolled her eyes. “Oh it’s  _ definitely _ just because you threw-up in my bed. That’s why it took me so long to ask all formally; back in college this chick vomited in my bed at a party before I knew her  _ name _ and I-” Yang’s voice trailed off into laughter as Blake jabbed at her sides. “You still haven’t answered, you know. Keeping me on pins and needles over here, y’know.”

Blake pressed a quick kiss to Yang’s lips, then pulled back again, smiling brightly through teary eyes. “Yes, Yang. I would  _ love _ to officially date  _ slash _ be with you  _ slash _ put a label on this thing.”


	15. 48 Days A.W.

_ 48 Days A.W. _

  
  


“Blake, this place looks amazing!”

Blake looked up as Ruby walked through the door, holding two boxes of pizza in her arms. Her wife, a designator Blake was still getting used to using, followed close behind, rolling her eyes.

“Ruby, we were here when Blake moved  _ in _ , you’ve  _ been _ here before.” Weiss pulled Blake into a tight hug, which Blake emphatically returned. Ruby scoffed as she deposited the pizza on the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, I  _ know _ , but everything was in boxes, and the posters weren’t up then! Now it feels like a real  _ home _ !”

Ruby was close behind Weiss in giving Blake a hug. Weiss stepped towards Blake’s bookshelves, examining her books.

“I just… Blake, you  _ must _ admit that organizing your books in alphabetical order makes more sense.”

Blake laughed, pulling plates out of a cabinet in the kitchen. “Organizing by color looks too good for me to resist, Weiss, I’m sorry.  _ Plus _ , the best part of looking for a book to read is finding something you weren’t looking for.”

Weiss ran her fingers along the spines of the books, and hummed noncommittally. Ruby glanced between the plates Blake had pulled out and Blake.

“So… are we  _ waiting _ for Yang, or can we eat  _ now _ , or…” The younger woman trailed off, a slightly ashamed grin on her face.

Blake rolled her eyes, and glanced at her kitchen clock. “She’s off work by now, must’ve been caught in traffic or something… But yes, Ruby, we can start eating now.”

The words had barely escaped her mouth when a knock sounded at the door. Pointedly ignoring Ruby’s waggling eyebrows, Blake moved to her front door, opening it.

As expected, it was Yang outside her door; biker jacket on but unzipped, looking tired after a shift at work but happy to see Blake. And, she had brought-

“Flowers?” Blake blinked in surprise, accepting the bouquet Yang was proffering to her, breathing in the floral scent. It was a fairly large grouping, but featured lilies and roses most prominently, both of the yellow variety.

“Flowers.” Yang confirmed. She leaned in and kissed Blake on the cheek. “You’re my favorite, and they’re your favorite, and a new apartment is a time for celebration, so…” she smiled, and leaned in close to kiss Blake on the other cheek. “Flowers.”

Blake’s cheeks showed how furiously she was blushing, but she pulled Yang in by her jacket for a real kiss; from behind them, she heard raucous cat calls from Ruby, and a wolf whistle from Weiss. 

“Yaaaaang, stop making out with your  _ girlfriend _ and get in here, the pizza is getting cold and I wanna watch a  _ mooooovie _ .” Ruby’s voice was a mix of whining and teasing, but, as always, the woman was focused on her food. Yang broke from their kiss, and pressed their foreheads together.

“You like ‘em? I know you like yellow ones best. Can’t imagine why...” Yang cocked an eyebrow, gently teasing.

Blake managed a nod, still blushing at the unanticipated housewarming gift. The blonde slipped past her, towards food and good friends, and Blake closed the door, and followed.


End file.
